A 


x-j  . 

C^L 


• 


CAPTAIN   DREAMS 


AND 


OTHER  STORIES 


EDITED  BY 

CAPT.   CHARLES  KING 
II 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1898 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 

BY 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA,  U.S.A. 


PREFACE. 


ENCOURAGED  by  the  success  attending  their 
venture  of  a  year  gone  by — their  "  Initial  Ex 
perience"  in  a  book  of  short  stories  from  soldier 
hands— the  publishers  again  offer  to  the  reading 
public  a  little  volume  of  similar  matter.  In 
this  day  and  generation,  when  military  dramas 
of  every  description  are  welcomed  by  the  ap 
plause  of  eager  and  enthusiastic  audiences,  it 
would  seem  as  though  an  increasing  demand 
had  sprung  up  for  tales  of  military  life,  and 
none  are  more  popular  than  those  which  deal 
with  our  own  Blue  Coats  upon  the  Border, — 
the  guardians  of  our  Indian  frontier.  As  be 
fore,  the  stories  have  been  carefully  chosen, 
for  they  who  wrote  them  have  long  since  won 
their  laurels  in  the  field  of  literature,  as  some 
of  their  number,  indeed,  had  "  won  their  spurs" 
l*  6 


6  PREFACE. 

upon  the  field  of  battle.  That  their  sketches 
will  be  welcomed  for  the  old  names'  sakes  is 
confidently  believed,  and  that  they  will  only 
serve  to  swell  the  list  of  friends  and  readers 
is  as  confidently  predicted. 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CAPTAIN  DREAMS 9 

By  Captain  Charles  King. 

THE  EBB-TIDE 49 

By  Lieutenant  A.  H.  Sydenham. 

WHITE  LILIES 75 

By  Alice  King  Hamilton. 

A  STRANGE  WOUND 113 

By  Lieutenant  W.  H.  Hamilton. 

THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ 135 

By  Lieutenant  A.  H.  Sydenham. 

THE  OTHER  FELLOW 153 

By  R.  Monckton-Dene, 

BUTTONS  ....    • 171 

By  Captain  J.  G.  Leeje. 


CAPTAIN   DREAMS. 


CAPTAIN   DREAMS, 


AND 


OTHER  STORIES. 


"!F  you're  not  more  careful,  Captain  de  Ee- 
mer,"  said  his  better  half— his  much  better  half 
they  called  her  in  the  gallant  Thirty-third — 
"  you'll  get  into  a  scrape  some  night  from  which 
even  I  can't  extricate  you." 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?"  said  the  captain, 
dreamily  puffing  at  his  cigar,  as  he  struggled 
hard  to  work  his  broad  shoulders  into  the  over 
coat  of  his  eldest  hope — three  sizes  too  small 
for  him.  "  I  suppose  it's  something  about  this 
coat." 

"Not  so  much  the  coat,"  answered  Mrs.  de 
Remer,  tugging  energetically  at  the  straining 
collar,  then  shifting  her  grasp  to  the  right  cuff 
and  stripping  it  from  his  arm.  "It's  the  man 
inside ;  and  that's  the  colonel's  cigar  you've  got 

11 


12  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

between  your  teeth  this  minute,  and  he's  laugh 
ing  at:  you  IIQW."  «  CA, 

'"1  thought  it  uncommonly  bad,"  answered 
the  captain,  with  a  patient  sigh ;  "  but,  if  he  will 
lay  it  close  beside  me,  how  the  mischief  can  I 
help  it  ?  I  haven't  had  a  really  happy  moment 
since  Wayne  left  the  post.  He  was  my  one 
consolation — outside  of  this  roof." 

"  And  no  one  had  a  moment's  peace  while  he 
was  under  it  for  fear  of  his  next  absurdity," 
replies  madame.  "  On  the  principle  that  misery 
loves  company,  you  and  he  are  well  matched. 
Major  Wayne  is  the  only  man  in  the  army  more 
inane  than  yourself.  He's  been  arrested  as  a 
horse-thief,  and  heaven  only  knows  what's  in 
store  for  you.  Now  do  think  what  you're  about 
to-night,  John,  or  I'll  be  summoned  to  bail  you 
out  before  morning." 

Meekly  the  captain  allowed  himself  to  be 
"happit  up"  in  his  own  new  top-coat,  his  hat 
pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes,  and  then  he 
stepped  slowly  forth  into  the  gathering  night. 
"I'll  leave  the  door  on  the  latch,  papa,"  said 
the  lady  of  the  house,  as  he  lingered  on  the 
piazza  without.  "Now  for  your  catechism. 
Sure  you've  got  your  night-key  ?" 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  13 

Down  went  the  right  hand  into  the  depths  of 

the  trousers'  pocket.     "Ye-es At  least,  I 

think  this  is  it." 

"  And  your  commutation  ticket  ?" 

Another  dive— into  the  waistcoat  pocket  this 
time,  fetching  out  a  flat,  gray  card-case.  "  In 
here/3  said  he,  briefly. 

"And  the  countersign,  in  case  you're  chal 
lenged?" 

«  No-o Well,  that  is  I  had ;  but  it's  no 

consequence.     The  colonel's  coming  back  with 

me." 

"Certainly!  else  you  shouldn't  have  gone. 
And  now,  if  the  Loyal  Legion  call  for  a  few 
remarks,  you " 

"  They  won't,  will  they  ?"  asked  the  captain, 
with  pathetic  trouble  in  his  big  brown  eyes. 

"  They  said  they  would.  You  gave  me  the 
Kecorder's  letter,  and  I  wrote  out  a  neat  and 
appropriate  extemporaneous  speech  for  you." 

"  Hah !  yes,  so  you  did.  Got  it  all  ready  here 
to  memorize,  right  in  my  waistcoat  pocket,  too." 

"  Well,  be  sure  you  memorize  the  right  piece, 
and  not  begin,  <  Ladies  and  gentlemen,'  as  you 
did  the  night  you  were  installed." 

The    captain  blushed.      "Wayne   did  worse 
2 


14  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

than  that,"  said  he.     "  But  here  comes  the  col 
onel.     Good- night,  dear." 

"  Come  back  here  this  instant,  you  wretch, 
and  don't  presume  to  go  without  kissing  me 
good-night.  There!  I  presume  the  next  I'll 
hear  of  you  will  be  in  the  hands  of  the  police. 
Do  keep  your  wits  about  you,  John ;  you  can't 
always  have  me.  Take  good  care  of  him,  col 
onel,  and  don't  leave  your  cigars  or  anything 
you  value  where  he  can  accumulate  them." 

"All  right,  Mrs.  de  Eemer,"  sang  out  the 
colonel,  cheerily,  from  his  carriage.  "  Tumble 
in,  <D.'  Now,  driver,  go  lively!"  Slam  went 
the  carriage-door,  slam-bang  the  de  Remer's 
door,  and  then  all  was  silence  at  Fort  Emory. 

A  long-suffering  woman  was  Mrs.  de  Remer, 
despite  the  fact  that  she  was  blessed  with  a 
devoted  husband,  with  happy,  healthy  children, 
a  bright  army  home,  a  comfortable  income,  a 
circle  of  appreciative  friends  and  as  few  cares  as 
often  fall  to  the  lot  of  woman  in  or  out  of  the 
army.  Her  husband  was  at  once  her  greatest 
joy  and  her  gravest  tribulation.  He  was  a 
lovely,  lover-like  husband,  the  other  women 
said.  "  He  thinks  his  wife  the  sweetest  creature 
that  ever  lived,"  they  sometimes  added,  sigh- 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  15 

fully,  for  the  benefit  of  their  own  less  apprecia 
tive  lords.  And,  nevertheless,  in  his  moments 
of  abstraction,  which  were  many,  Captain  de 
Remer  had  been  known  to  say  and  do  or  to 
leave  unsaid  and  undone  things  which  were 
enough  to  turn  gray  the  tresses  of  a  woman  and 
a  wife  through  sheer  chagrin  and  confusion. 
De  Remer  never  drank,  never  swore,  never  gam 
bled,  never  growled,  never  cared  to  wander  from 
his  own  fireside,  never  saw  anything  to  especially 
admire  in  any  other  woman's  complexion,  con 
versation,  or  conservation,  Never,  until  his 
wife  herself  pointed  out  some  peculiar  grace,  ex 
cellence,  style,  or  virtue  in  other  women  or  other 
women's  children,  was  de  Remer  ever  known  to 
admit  it,  much  less — oh,  that  such  wisdom  or 
oblivion  were  more  widely  disseminated ! — to 
remark  it.  "No  one,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Darling, 
"  no  one  ever  heard  of  his  telling  his  wife  that 
Mrs.  Flight,  or  any  other  woman  except  her, 
seemed  to  look  younger  every  day  of  her  life." 
Indeed  was  de  Remer  a  model  husband,  but  for 
one  ludicrous  failing.  He  was  the  most  absent- 
minded  man  in  all  the  army,  except  Major 
Wayne,  who  was  a  bachelor,  and  therefore  not 
beyond  hope  of  redemption. 


16  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

Wayne's  story  has  been  told  elsewhere.  So 
long  as  he  remained,  Emory  de  Remer's  other 
wise  vivid  light  had  been  hidden  as  it  were 
under  a  bushel.  But  the  major  had  been  trans 
ferred  to  Fort  Frayne,  whence  new  tales  of  new 
absurdities  were  frequently  wafted,  and  now  once 
more  had  de  Remer  become  the  central  figure  of 
garrison  anecdote,  and  time  and  again  went  up 
the  laughing  query,  "  What  will  he  do  next  ?" 

But  not  even  by  long-suffering  Mrs.  de  Remer 
could  have  been  predicted  the  predicament  of 
the  night  to  come. 

They  went  to  town,  the  colonel  and  his  faith 
ful  company  commander,  whom  Blake  of  the 
cavalry  had  long  since  christened  Captain  John 
a  Dreams,  to  attend  the  monthly  meeting  of 
the  Commandery  of  the  Loyal  Legion,  of  which 
both  were  enthusiastic  members.  They  met 
there  choice  spirits  whom  they  often  encoun 
tered.  They  met,  alas !  two  old  cronies  of  the 
colonel,  transients,  en  route  to  the  far  West  after 
a  joyous  leave  in  the  States,  and  when  de  Remer 
would  have  readily  returned  on  the  "  11.30  sub 
urban"  to  the  barriers  of  Fort  Emory  and  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  lo  !  it  was  the  colonel  who 
stood  like  a  spread-eagle  military  angel,  with 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  17 

flaming  speech  instead  of  sword,  and  barred  the 
backward  way  to  the  Eden  where  he  would  be. 

"  Dreams,  old  man,  I  promised  your  blessed 
wife  I'd  fetch  you  home  safe,  and  I'm  going  to 
do  it,  by  Criminy!  You're  not  to  be  trusted 
out  alone  this  time  of  night.  You're  just  as 
apt  to  get  to  walking  in  your  sleep  and  turning 
up  on  the  Pacific  express  or  the  Black  Maria  as 
you  are  to  getting  home — without  me.  Now 
I'll  wire  out  to  the  post  that  we're  coming  on 
the  fast  mail.  They'll  slow  up  at  Belt  Junction 
to  let  us  off, — I  know  Jem, — and  my  man'll  go 
round  and  tell  Mrs.  de  Remer,  and  it'll  be  all 
right.  Then  we  four '11  go  round  to  the  club 
and  we'll  have  supper, — supper  such  as  I've  been 
spoiling  to  have  with  these  two  blessed  old 
roosters  ever  since  the  Sioux  campaign  of  76. 
It  makes  me  ravenous  to  think  of  it." 

It  made  the  colonel  bibulous,  too, — a  rare  trait 
in  the  old  warrior,  and  the  more  demonstrative 
because  of  long  repression.  At  midnight  the 
up-stairs  corridors  of  the  Amaranth  rang  with 
the  chorus  of  "Benny  Havens  0,"  and  songs  of 
other  lands.  The  party  was  reinforced  by  a 
squad  of  club  fellows  ever  ready  for  a  convivial 
moment,  and  the  nearer  the  time  came  for  catch- 
b  2* 


18  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

ing  the  fast  mail  the  more  was  it  apparent  that 
the  colonel  wouldn't  catch  anything  so  surely 
as  the  curtain  lecture  awaiting  him — with  his 
headache — on  the  morrow. 

"I've  got  to  go,"  murmured  de  Kemer  to 
others  of  the  party.  "I'm  on  court-martial 
duty  in  the  morning.  I'll  slip  quietly  out  after 
a  moment  or  two  and  leave  the  colonel  with 
you.  He'll  be  all  right  after  a  nap  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  can  come  out  when  he's  ready." 

And  that  was  the  last  seen  or  heard  of 
"Dreams"  for  many  hours.  Colonel  Stout 
stepped  off  the  noon  accommodation  looking 
little  the  worse  for  the  jovial  revelry  of  the 
previous  night,  but  his  heart  sank  within  him 
when  his  coachman  said,  "  Where's  the  captain, 
sir?  Mrs.  de  Kemer  said  you  were  to  bring 
him  back." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  hasn't  got  home?" 
asked  the  colonel,  in  dismay.  "I  might  have 
known  he'd  come  to  grief  if  he  went  where  I 
couldn't  watch  him,"  he  added  to  himself,  with 
rueful  forecast  of  what  Mrs.  de  Kemer  would  say 
and  remorseful  retrospect  of  the  night  gone  by. 

"Koa,  sir;  an'  they've  telephoning  to  town 
an'  head-quarters " 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  19 

"  The  devil  they  have !"  swore  the  colonel. 
"  That  shows  how  utterly  damned  inconsiderate 
people  can  he,  and  now  everybody,  from  the 
general  down,  will  know  I  stayed  in  town  all 
night.  Hold  on,  Jim !  I'll  call  up  head-quar 
ters  here  from  the  depot." 

It  was  a  sympathetic  aide  who  answered  the 
colonel's  telephone  summons  and  not  a  gruff 
department  commander  or  consequential  chief 
of  staff. 

"  Heard  anything  of  de  Remer  ?" 

"  No,  not  a  blessed  word — and  the  wires  from 
Emory  have  been  hot  all  morning.  The  police 
say  no  one  answering  his  description  has  been 
run  in.  They  say  at  the  club  he  left  there  about 
2.50  A.M.,  came  in  again  in  ten  minutes  looking 
as  if  he'd  forgotten  something  and  went  out  on 
the  run,  and  that's  the  last  they  know  of  him. 
Colonel  Tintop  came  down  from  the  dining-room 
with  him,  but  returned,  they  said,  to  rejoin  you." 

""Well,  have  you  called  up  Tintop?  I — I 
think  he's  probably  in  his  room  yet,"  stammered 
the  colonel,  and  coloring  despite  the  fact  that 
his  young  friend  was  twenty  miles  away. 

"  Well,  we've  called,  but  he  hasn't  showed 
down,"  was  the  suggestive  answer.  "  Guess  his 


20  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

head's  as  bad  as  his  hand  this  morning.  He 
was  to  have  taken  the  noon  train  for  Omaha." 

The  colonel  groaned  so  that  the  aide  could  hear 
it.  "  Is  the  general  in  his  office  ?"  he  asked. 

"Nope.     Gone  out  for  a  bite  of  lunch." 

"  Well,  say,  Billy,  there's  a  good  fellow,  just 
let  on  that  I'm  so  anxious  about  Dreams  I'm 
coming  in  on  the  first  train.  I'm  blest  if  I  want 
to  face  his  wife  this  day,  let  alone  my  own." 

And  the  aide-de-camp  laughingly  assented. 
The  carriage  went  back  to  the  post  empty  and 
the  colonel  to  the  city — full.  Full,  that  is,  of 
mingled  anxiety,  remorse,  and  resolutions.  His 
first  visit  was  to  the  club,  and  there  he  found 
Tintop,  by  no  means  the  jovial  blade  he  had 
parted  with  when  they  saw  each  other  to  bed 
at  4  A.M.  Tintop  was  trouble  up  to  the  metallic 
summit  of  his  head. 

"I  came  down  with  Dreams  because  I  had 
something  to  tell  him,"  said  that  veteran  yarn 
spinner,  a  man  who  would  rather  go  without 
his  dinner  that  be  balked  in  telling  a  story; 
"  and  he  seemed  very  much  interested,  despite 
his  having  to  catch  a  certain  train.  He  said 
he'd  have  to  take  a  cab,  and  they  ordered  one 
for  him  at  the  office." 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  21 

"But  he  was  back  in  ten  minutes,  I  hear. 
What  was  that  for  ?"  asked  the  colonel. 

"  They  don't  know.  He  went  into  the  coat- 
room  in  a  great  hurry,  and  then  came  bustling 
out,  jumped  into  his  cab  and  drove  off  a  second 
time.  They  rang  up  the  cabman,  and  he  said 
he  drove  the  captain  to  the  depot  just  in  time 
to  catch  his  train,  and  that's  the  last  of  him." 

And  to  all  intents  and  purposes  that  was  the 
last  of  him  until  late  that  evening.  Then  at 
last  there  came  a  telegram  to  his  half-distracted 
wife,  "  Am  all  right.  Had  absurd  adventure. 
Tell  the  story  later."  And,  very  properly,  her 
tragic  grief  changed  instantly  to  glowing  indig 
nation. 

And  this — told  with  many  blushes,  and  with 
not  a  few  feminine  comments,  and  with  such 
evident  mortification  that  for  a  time  and  to  only 
a  chosen  few  was  it  confided — was  the  purport 
of  the  captain's  story. 

Colonel  Tintop  was  telling  his  yarn  as  they 
came  down  the  stairs,  and  Dreams  was  dreamily 
listening,  keeping  up  appearances  of  doing  so 
even  while  furtively  watching  the  clock.  Dis 
tressed  with  fear  of  losing  the  thread  of  the 
story  and  thereby  seeming  impolite,  and  of 


22  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

losing  the  train  and  thereby  being  derelict,  de 
Reiner's  already  overweighted  spirit  was  sud 
denly  perturbed  by  the  consciousness  that  it  was 
too  late  for  the  street  cars,  too  far  to  walk,  and 
he  must  have  a  cab.  Even  while  keeping  up 
a  smile  of  simulated  interest  in  the  colonel's 
monologue  he  managed  to  murmur  a  call  for 
a  messenger.  Then,  mirabile  dictu!  he  bethought 
him  of  the  lone  ten-dollar  bill  that  Horatia,  his 
wife,  permitted  him  to  carry  as  a  reserve  in  case 
of  accident, — long  experience  having  taught  her 
that  money  in  any  amount  was  sure  to  slip 
through  his  hands.  That  cab,  at  night  prices, 
would  be  a  dollar  at  least,  and  he  hadn't  twenty- 
five  cents  in  small  change.  The  clerk  accommo 
datingly  broke  the  ten  into  a  single  five,  which 
he  replaced  in  the  flat  card-case  he  carried  in 
the  waistcoat  pocket  of  his  evening  dress,  and 
a  little  stack  of  silver — dollars,  halves,  and 
quarters, — which  he  scooped  into  the  palm  of 
his  right  hand,  while  the  colonel,  clinging  to 
his  left  elbow,  led  him  away  into  the  coat-room. 
The  club  must  have  been  making  a  night  of  it, 
for  there  were  at  least  fifty  overcoats  of  all  sorts 
and  sizes  hanging  on  their  hooks;  but  de  Remer 
felt  sure  he  remembered  just  where  he  had  hung 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  23 

his,  the  third  hook  beyond  the  mirror;  and 
there  it  was,  its  change  pocket  invitingly  to 
wards  him. 

"  Whatever  you  do,  don't  unbutton  that  over 
coat  and  expose  your  unprotected  chest  to  the 
night  air,"  had  been  another  of  Horatia's  part 
ing  injunctions.  She  had  always  held  that  offi 
cers  had  no  business  ever  to  wear  evening  dress, 
because  their  chests  were  usually  so  covered  by 
their  uniforms  it  made  it  doubly  hazardous  for 
them  to  wear  open  shirt  fronts.  De  Eemer  was 
pluming  himself  on  his  thoughtfulness  of  her 
injunction,  and  thinking  how  unjust  people  were 
in  accusing  him  of  being  absent-minded,  when, 
even  in  the  midst  of  one  of  old  Tintop's  long- 
winded  yarns,  he  could  think  of  his  wife's  ad 
monitions.  "  I'll  slip  this  silver  into  the  change 
pocket,"  quoth  he,  "  and  then  I  won't  have 
to  unbutton  the  coat  when  I  pay  the  driver." 
This  he  did  forthwith,  and  then  the  colonel 
turned  him  round  and  made  him  listen  to  the 
climax  of  the  story,  which  was  long  a-coming, 
and  by  that  time  the  overshoes  were  on,  and 
the  servant,  holding  the  overcoat  in  readiness, 
announced  cabby  at  the  door,  and  laughing 
heartily,  as  he  knew  how,  at  the  denouement,  de 


24  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

Kemer  hastily  shook  hands,  bade  the  colonel 
good-night,  ran  down  the  stairs,  popped  into 
the  cab,  said  "Great  Western  depot,"  and 
rattled  off. 

Before  they  had  gone  half  a  dozen  blocks, 
and  he  was  congratulating  himself  on  having  so 
deftly  escaped  the  toils  and  taken  all  precau 
tions,  Captain  de  Remer  clapped  his  hand  to 
the  change  pocket  of  his  coat — and  found  it 
empty. 

Aghast  he  searched  it.  Not  a  penny  there, 
and  he  could  have  sworn  that  not  ten  minutes 
agone  he  had  placed  five  dollars  in  silver,  heavy 
silver,  in  that  very  pocket,  but,  just  to  make 
certain,  he  felt  in  the  other  outer  pockets,  and 
with  no  result.  There  was  not  a  cent  in  any 
one  of  them.  For  once  de  Remer  acted 
promptly.  "I  see  it  all,"  he  cried.  "I've 
slipped  it  into  some  other  fellow's  coat.  They 
were  all  bunched  when  I  came  out,  and  there 
were  several  very  like  mine,  dark  blue  or  black 
beaver  with  velvet  collar.  Back  to  the  club, 
driver!"  he  shouted.  "I've  forgotten  some 
thing." 

So  back  they  went,  lively,  for  time  was  short. 
De  Remer  bounded  up  the  steps.     "I've  for- 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  25 

gotten  something,"  he  stammered  to  the  servant 
who  answered  the  bell,  then  bolted  on  through 
to  the  coat-room,  and  there — hanging  on  the 
third  peg,  just  where  he  had  left  it — was  the 
overcoat — his  own  overcoat  he  felt  sure,  and 
doubtless  that  stupid  boy  must  have  given  him 
some  one  else's,  some  one  of  his  own  size,  and 
he  had  never  noticed  the  error  until  that  most 
fortunate  discovery  that  it  contained  no  money. 
In  an  instant  he  was  out  of  one  coat  and  into 
the  other, — a  servant  coming  in  just  in  time  to 
pull  down  the  disordered  tails  of  his  claw  ham 
mer, — then  out  again  he  darted  into  his  cab. 
"  Now,  driver,  for  all  you're  worth !"  he  cried, 
"and  it's  half  a  dollar  extra."  He  carefully 
counted  out  the  promised  silver  and  held  it 
ready  in  his  hand.  The  cab  went  clattering 
through  the  cold,  deserted  streets,  bounding 
over  cross  walks,  slewing  around  corners,  and 
spinning  over  the  massive  bridge  with  the  tall 
tower  and  the  illumined  clock  disk  of  the 
station  just  coming  into  view.  Only  three  min 
utes,  by  the  immortal  Joshua!  Only  one  as 
they  whirled  under  the  archway,  and,  slinging 
the  ready  Jehu  his  shining  dollar  and  a  half, 
de  Remer  rushed  madly  through  the  waiting- 


26  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

rooms  and  out  among  the  stragglers  besieging 
the  gate-keeper.  Luck  again !  Here  was  his 
card-case  (in  which  was  his  commutation  ticket) 
in  that  change  pocket,  too.  Something  else  was 
there  under  the  silver !  Odd !  He  thought 
that  card-case  was  in  the  waistcoat  pocket  where 
he  couldn't  lose  it,  but,  confound  his  mooning 
ways  !  he  must  have  changed  it  before  going  up 
to  the  colonel's  spread.  Late  as  he  was,  there 
were  others  behind  him.  "  Have  your  tickets 
ready,  gents,"  shouted  the  lantern-swinging 
official  at  the  gate.  "  All  aboard,  fast  mail !" 
"  All  aboard,  Omaha  night  express !"  sung  out 
the  conductors  underneath  the  dark  train-shed. 
"  Hurry  up  ahead  there !"  growled  the  hinder- 
most  gentleman,  climbing  up  the  captain's  suf 
fering  shins.  Blindly  he  tendered  his  yellow 
pasteboard  to  the  gateman.  "All  right,  Bul- 
wer — First  train  to  the  left,  sir.  Hurry  up, 
sir !  Not  a  second  to  spare !  Have  to  run  for 
it  now!"  Bong!  went  the  ponderous  gong. 
Whoop — who — ee  an  engine  whistled  far  to  the 
front.  "  That's  your  train,  sir.!  Help  this  gen 
tleman  up,  Jimmy,"  and  breathless,  excited,  and 
clutching  his  card-case  in  one  hand,  puffing, 
blowing,  but  successful,  the  runner  was  hauled 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  27 

aboard  the  rear  platform  and  passed  on  into  a 
crowded  car. 

It  was  filled  with  men  and  women,  total 
strangers  to  him  but  on  terms  of  familiar 
friendship  with  one  another.  Jolly  chat,  laugh 
ter,  repartee,  bright  eyes,  flashing  teeth,  traces 
of  "  make  up"  all  too  hastily  removed,  and  de 
Remer  understood  it  all  in  no  time.  It  was 
some  large  theatrical  company  after  the  last 
performance  in  the  metropolis  moving  on  to 
the  "next  stand,"  Meantime  with  rapidly  ac 
celerating  speed  the  train  was  whistling  past 
switch-lights,  thundering  over  crossings,  darting 
under  bridges,  and  then  at  last  stretching  away 
like  a  racer  over  the  long  tangents  outside  the 
city.  "  Bully  train,  this !"  said  the  captain  to 
himself.  "  Any  other  time  we'd  be  stopping  at 
every  blessed  one  of  these  suburban  stations. 
We'll  be  out  to  the  Fort  in  forty  winks,  and  I'll 
have  the  colonel's  trap  to  myself.  Shall  I  tell 
Horatia  how  I  stowed  the  money  in  another 
fellow's  overcoat,  or  made  myself  believe  I  did, 
and  nearly  missed  my  train?  Well,  perhaps 
not  to-night." 

A  peal  of  merry  laughter  attracted  him.  One 
of  the  young  men  in  the  middle  of  the  car  was 


28  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

giving  a  capital  imitation  of  a  noted  actor  in 
Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde. 

The  captain  joined  in  the  applause  and  shouts 
for  more.  The  brakeman  banged  the  rear  door 
and  came  in.  "Lucky  we  grabbed  you,  sir. 
This  train  don't  stop  for  nothing  when  once  it's 
going." 

"Lucky,  indeed!"  said  the  captain,  as  he 
pressed  one  of  the  silver  disks  into  the  brake- 
man's  palm ;  "  but  you  slow  up  at  the  Junction, 
I'm  told." 

"  Belt  Line  ?  Certainly,  sir.  Be  there  in  five 
minutes." 

"Bless  me!"  said  de  Kemer,  "that  is  going. 
I  thought  it  was  twenty  miles  out."  But  here 
another  gleeful  shout  and  clapping  of  hands 
took  the  brakeman  away,  and  Dreams  made  for 
the  rear  door.  "  Horatia  says  never  under  any 
circumstances  attempt  to  leave  a  train  when  in 
motion,  but  when  I  do  to  take  the  rearmost  plat 
form,"  said  he  to  himself.  A  cloud  of  smoke 
and  steam  commingled  closed  in  on  the  bleary 
tail-lamps;  vague  outlines  of  signal-towers, 
station-houses,  and  dim  green  and  red  switch- 
lights  flashed  into  sudden  sight  and  became  dis 
solving  views  in  another  second.  "  JS"o  wonder 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  29 

they  call  it  the  fast  mail!"  said  de  Reiner. 
Sometimes  in  the  sleepy  hours  'twixt  twelve 
o'clock  and  reveille,  when  going  the  rounds  as 
officer  of  the  day,  he  had  heard  the  roar  and 
seen  the  rushing  lights  of  this  meteor  of  the 
night  and  wished  he  could  do  his  weary  mile  of 
sentry  posts  in  railway  time.  Another  peal  of 
laughter  from  within.  What  fun  those  people 
were  having !  and  how  little  they'd  miss  him  if 
he  were  to  drop  astern !  A  long  blast  from  the 
deep-throated  whistle  far  at  the  front.  The 
captain  grasped  the  hand-rail  and  peered  cau 
tiously  ahead.  The  air-brakes  began  to  grip  the 
wheels,  the  speed  to  slacken.  Belt  Line  Junction 
already  ?  Incredible !  Yet,  that's  what  the  brake- 
man  said.  Wonder  why  the  fast  mail  should 
stop  here,  anyhow.  A  peep  around  the  corner 
of  the  car,  and  far  up  forward  were  the  lights 
of  the  station.  Slower  and  slower  every  minute 
went  the  train.  Then,  at  last,  just  as  though 
decided  not  to  come  to  a  full  stop,  yet  just  as 
they  seemed  stopping,  too,  toot,  toot  far  ahead 
went  the  whistle,  followed  by  sudden  hiss  of  air 
and  release  of  wheels  and  sudden  spring  forward. 
"  By  Jove,  she's  going  on  again !  Now  or  never  ! 
Jump,  or  be  carried  fifty  miles  without  a  stop !" 

3* 


30  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

The  next  minute  the  captain's  heels  struck  the 
icy  space  between  the  double  tracks,  then  flew 
from  under  him.  He  brought  up  sliding,  spread 
on  his  back  and  seeing  stars  innumerable  in  a 
clouded  sky.  His  hat  flew  into  the  darkness. 
The  precious  coat — unconscious  cause  of  the 
whole  calamity — parted  at  the  back  under  some 
intolerable  strain ;  and  when  five  minutes  later, 
with  the  train  already  out  of  sight  and  hearing, 
the  station-master  was  turning  away  for  the 
night,  he  was  amazed  at  the  sudden  appearance 
of  a  disheveled  tramp  asking  for  the  colonel's 
carriage. 

"The  colonel's  what?" 

"  The  colonel's  carriage." 

"  Carriage  be  d — d !  You  want  the  Black 
Maria." 

"  I  expect  I  look  so,"  said  the  captain,  meekly. 
"  I  had  to  jump,  or  be  carried  fifty  miles  beyond 
the  Fort." 

"What  fort?" 

"  Fort  Emory,  of  course !  The  only  one  I 
know  of  near  here." 

"Fort  Emory,  your  grandmother!  That's 
twenty  miles  'cross  country,  over  on  tother  road. 
What  a  jag  you've  got,  man !" 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  31 

"  Good  heavens !"  said  Dreams.  "  Wasn't  that 
the  fast  mail,  and  isn't  this  Emory  station  ?" 

"  See  here,  Johnny,"  said  the  station  agent, 
patronizingly,  "  you're  as  far  off  your  base  as 
any  skate  I've  struck  for  a  year,  and  it  has  been 
a  good  year  for  skates,  too.  Don't  you  know 
that's  Number  Four,— the  Omaha  express  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  but  that's  the  train 
I  was  told  to  take  when  I  showed  my  ticket 
for  Fort  Emory." 

"  You  got  a  ticket?"  said  the  man,  suspi 
ciously. 

"  Certainly !  I  showed  it  at  the  gate,  and  the 
railway  men  not  only  showed  me  that  train,  but 
helped  me  onto  it." 

"  Yes,  you  look  as  though  you  needed  boost 
ing,"  began  the  official,  but  Dreams's  distress 
was  too  genuine  to  admit  of  his  noticing  so 
trivial  a  point.  "  How  on  earth  can  I  get  over 
to  the  Fort  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No  way  better'n  walking,"  was  the  concise 
reply ;  "  and  the  sooner  you  start  the  better." 

"But  I've  lost  my  hat  three  hundred  yards 
down  the  track,  and  it's  dark  as  pitch.  I'd  like 
to  borrow  your  lamp  a  few  minutes.  Do  you 
mean  there's  no  train  back  to  town  ?" 


32  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

"Not  before  6.30  A.M.,  and  that  don't  stop. 
You  left  that  hat  with  your  uncle  in  town, 
Johnny,  and  you'll  find  the  pawn  ticket  without 
a  lantern.  'Spose  he  wouldn't  allow  you  any 
thing  on  the  coat.  You  wasn't  thinking  of 
enlisting  at  the  Fort,  was  you  ?  You're  too  old 
a  sinner  even  for  them  fellers." 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  can  find  any  fun  out  of 
this,"  said  Dreams ;  "  I  can't.  Then  can  I  wire 
to  the  Fort  and  find  a  place  to  sleep  ?" 

"Not  here,"  said  the  agent.  "The  operator 
goes  home  right  after  the  express  is  signaled, 
and  he's  abed  and  asleep  by  this  time.  As  for 
sleeping,  what's  the  matter  with  the  nearest 
barn?  There's  no  hotel  nearer  than  Prairie  Lea, 
five  miles  east.  What  are  you  tramping  for  this 
time  a  night,  anyhow?  What  you  been  stealing?" 

"Merciful  Powers!"  thought  de  Remer, 
"  what  would  Horatia  say  to  that  ?  I  told  you  I 
came  out  on  this  train  by  mistake,  and  I  jumped 
off  when  they  slowed  up  at  the  crossing." 

"You  said  you  were  ticketed  for  the  Fort 
and  the  train  hands  put  you  aboard  the  Omaha. 
Now,  I  know  they've  no  such  chumps  in  the 
pay  of  this  road.  That  story  is  simply  rotten, 
Johnny.  Come  now,  I  want  to  close  up." 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  33 

"Before  you  do  so,"  said  the  captain,  with 
much  dignity,  "  be  so  good  as  to  favor  me  with 
your  name,  that  I  may  report  your  language  to 
your  superiors  in  the  morning.  As  for  my 
credentials,  here's  my  commutation  ticket,  and 
you  can  satisfy  yourself."  So  saying  he  ex 
tracted  the  fateful  pasteboard  from  his  case  and 
held  it  forth.  The  conductor  had  not  yet 
reached  the  rear  cars  of  the  train  when  it 
reached  Belt  Junction,  consequently,  up  to  that 
moment,  his  ticket  had  been  examined  only  by 
the  gateman. 

Uncertainly  the  agent  took  it,  glanced  con 
temptuously  at  it  as  though  to  say,  "  I  size  your 
bluff,"  and  then,  all  in  an  instant,  a  keen,  eager 
light  shot  into  his  face.  He  seemed  about  to 
speak,  but  with  sudden  self-control  checked  him 
self,  peered  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows  at  the 
captain,  and  queried : 

"  How  did  you  get  this  ?" 

"  Bought  it  at  the  office  in  town." 

"  And  what'd  you  say  your  name  was  ?" 

"I  am  Captain  de  Eemer,  Thirty-third  In 
fantry,  Fort  Emory." 

The  station-master  glanced  keenly  at  him 
once  more,  then  quickly  shoved  the  ticket  into 


34  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

his  pocket,  saying,  "  You  can  sit  here  by  the 
fire  as  long  as  you  like.  It's  the  best  I  can  do. 
I  live  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and  there  isn't 
a  spare  corner  in  my  shack.  'Tall  events  you 
can't  go  anywhere  'cept  by  walking  until  7.45, 
so  make  the  best  of  it." 

With  that  he  let  himself  out  into  the  darkness 
and  slammed  the  door  behind  him.  Dreams 
thought  he  heard  it  locked,  but  that  didn't  con 
cern  him.  "  The  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  and 
men  gang  aft  a-gley,"  said  he  with  a  sigh. 
"  Now,  what  can  Horatia  be  thinking  ?" 

Presently  he  took  a  turn  around  the  room. 
There  was  the  little  ticket-office,  closed  and 
locked,  both  window  and  door.  So  was  the 
door  to  the  women's  room  adjoining.  So, 
finally,  was  the  door  by  which  the  agent  had 
gone.  "  Verily,"  said  Dreams,  "  I'm  a  prisoner, 
and  nothing  less,"  for  every  window  was  bat 
tened  down  tight  and  protected  without  by  bars 
of  iron.  For  the  life  of  him  he  could  give  no 
plausible  explanation  of  this.  He  would  not 
have  been  surprised  had  the  official  locked  him 
out,  but  why  should  he  lock  him  in  ?  And  then 
it  occurred  to  him  that  the  station  agent  had 
gone  off  with  his  ticket. 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  35 

Ten  minutes  or  so  he  pottered  about  the 
room,  half  expecting  the  official  to  return,  and 
at  length,  wearied,  dejected,  disgusted,  yet 
philosophical,  he  seated  himself  in  the  arm 
chair  the  agent  had  lugged  out  for  him, 
propped  his  feet  on  the  stove-rail,  and  presently 
dropped  off  to  sleep.  The  last  thing  he  saw  or 
remembered  was  the  white  face  of  the  clock 
informing  him  with  a  broad  grin  that  it  was 
4.30  A.M. 

Just  at  that  hour  half  a  dozen  revelers  came 
down  from  the  upper  regions  of  the  Amaranth, 
were  helped  into  their  coats  in  the  cloak-room 
and,  further,  into  their  cabs  at  the  door.  Just 
at  5.30  o'clock  one  of  these  vehicles  with  two 
fares,  after  certain  intermediate  stops,  came  to  a 
halt  at  the  Colonial  Flats,  and  one  of  the  two 
fares,  after  rummaging  his  overcoat  pocket, 
startled  the  other  and  cabby,  too,  by  saying, — 

"By  God,  I'm  robbed!" 

At  six  o'clock  the  sergeant  on  duty  at  the 
Central  Police  Station  was  wiring  to  various 
sub-stations,  and  two  detectives  had  visited  Gar- 
ritty's  open-all-night  oyster  parlors  and  Madi- 
gan's  Exchange,  at  both  which  popular  night 
resorts  the  Hon.  Jerry  Brenham,  M.  C.  from 


36  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

the  Buckhorn  District  of  the  Prairie  State,  had 
tarried  and  partaken  of  good  cheer,  and  been 
made  acquainted  with  many  prominent  citizens 
on  his  flatward  way.  Mr.  Brenham's  loss  con 
sisted  of  a  flat  card-case  containing  his  railway 
passes,  four  or  five  checks  payable  to  his  order, 
some  valuable  memoranda,  a  lot  of  loose  silver, 
and  about  one  hundred  dollars  in  greenbacks 
which,  rolled  in  a  wad,  was  in  his  overcoat 
pocket, — the  little  change  pocket  on  the  outside. 
When  asked  how  he  came  to  have  valuables 
in  so  exposed  a  point,  the  gentleman  blushed. 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "  ordinarily  I  wouldn't,"  and 
the  desk  sergeant  smiled  benignantly. 

"The  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  'gainst 
our  getting  the  money  back,  sir,"  said  he ;  "  but 
Garritty  or  Madigan,  either,  can  recover  the  card- 
case." 

And  yet  at  8.30  that  morning  Garritty  and 
Madigan  were  both  swearing  stoutly  that  no  one 
at  their  places  had  "  lifted"  anything  belonging 
to  Mr.  Brenham.  They  were  sure  of  it,  because 
they  knew  every  gentleman  present  at  the  time. 
At  8.40  they  were  still  protesting,  when  there 
came  a  wire  from  Belt  Line  Junction  saying  a 
"  snoozer"  was  there  only  an  hour  before  who 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  37 

had  one  of  Mr.  Brenham's  tickets,  and  the 
ticket  was  still  there  to  prove  it.  The  telegraph 
agent  had  caught  a  message  ticking  over  the 
wires  to  certain  station  agents  on  the  Omaha 
Air  Line,  at  Bulwer  and  beyond,  warning  them 
and  conductors  to  look  out  for  anybody  with 
the  Hon.  J.  Brenham's  "  commutations"  or 
"  annuals,"  and  here  at  Belt  Junction  had  they 
run  it  down,  and  the  bird  was  flown. 

"  Where'd  he  go  ?"  wired  the  police. 

"Back  to  town  at  8.20.  She  was  late.  He 
bought  a  trip  ticket.  Said  he  was  going  to 
report  me  for  impudence.  You  can  nab  your 
man  at  the  Union  depot  if  you're  lively."  Lively 
they  were.  Two  officers  were  there  when  the 
train  got  in,  but  no  one  was  visible  who  an 
swered  the  description  given.  "  A  feller  like 
that  jumped  off  at  Omaha  Junction;  said  he 
wanted  to  catch  the  first  train  up  the  fort  road," 
explained  the  brakeman. 

"  Well,  run  him  down,  follow  him  up,"  said 
the  Honorable  Jerry,  who  hadn't  slept  a  wink 
and  was  resorting  to  stimulant  again. 

Cheerless,  hatless,  hungry,  and  mad  all 
through,  Captain  de  Remer  had  upbraided  the 
station-master  when  that  functionary  came 

4 


38  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

around  again  in  the  morning  to  sell  tickets  for 
the  7.45.  There  were  few  passengers.  A 
heavy  snow  was  falling,  and  the  train  was  late. 
Dreams  would  have  telegraphed  the  Fort,  but, 
argued  he,  "  I'll  go  in  on  the  7.45,  jump  off  up 
town  at  the  Omaha  Junction,  and  take  the  Fort 
local  that  comes  along  ahout  ten  minutes  after 
my  train  gets  there.  I'll  be  at  Emory  as  soon 
as  my  telegram,"  and  so  he  would  have  been, 
but  that  it  was  8.40  before  the  7.49  came  buz 
zing  and  roaring  through  the  drifts. 

In  his  offended  dignity,  he  would  have  no 
more  to  say  to  the  station-master,  but  he  bought 
a  hat  from  a  neighborly  native,  who  was  glad  to 
get  a  dollar  for  a  Derby  of  the  vintage  of  four 
years  back,  and  then  kept  out  on  the  platform 
until  borne  away  by  the  train.  At  Omaha  Junc 
tion  he  learned  that  he  was  much  too  late  for  the 
Fort  local,  and  it  would  be  noon  before  the  next 
train.  Here  there  was  no  telegraph,  but  some 
shops  up  Erie  street  were  suggestive  of  hot 
coffee  and  rolls  and  steak,  and  even  such  as 
they  were  they  tasted  palatably  to  the  tired 
man.  Then  he  was  directed  to  a  journeyman 
tailor  who  had  a  little  shop  not  far  away,  and 
into  that  artist's  hands  he  confided  the  ruptured 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  39 

overcoat,  beseeching  him  to  repair  the  long  rent 
as  speedily  as  possible,  but  that  expert  said  it 
was  a  three  hours'  job ;  and  while  he  was  at  it 
the  captain  begged  permission  to  lay  him  down 
on  the  sofa  in  a  little  back  room,  and  there  he 
was  soon  placidly  sleeping,  so  placidly  that  the 
noon  accommodation  went  by  without  him,  and 
this  climax  to  a  series  of  misadventures  broke 
him  up  completely.  Now  he  must  wait  until 
6  P.M. 

But  not  until  one  o'clock  was  the  coat  ready. 
He  therefore  decided  to  take  the  first  train  into 
town,  where  he  could  wire  to  Horatia,  get  a  com 
fortable  dinner  at  the  Amaranth,  and,  after  a 
shave  and  a  hair  cut,  would  astonish  her  by  the 
trimness  of  his  appearance  when  he  got  home. 
Back  to  the  station  went  he,  and  a  townward 
train  had  just  gone  by.  No  more  for  two  hours 
and  a  half.  "  Go  west  six  blocks  and  you'll  find 
a  trolley  line,"  said  a  policeman,  and  so  at  2  P.M. 
Dreams  was  whisking  back  to  the  treacherous 
core  of  the  great  city  and  pondering  ruefully 
over  the  adventures  of  the  day.  "  I  am  going," 
said  he,  "  to  the  railway  office  and  make  formal 
complaint  of  that  station-master,  and  also  of  the 
trainmen  who  saw  my  ticket  and  put  me  on  the 


40  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

wrong  road."  And  such  was  his  intention  when 
he  reached  the  Court-House  terminal  at  2.45,  but 
by  that  time  he  was  hungry  in  earnest.  The 
sight  of  ruddy  lobsters,  ice-rooted  clams,  and 
other  sea  dainties  in  the  alluring  windows  of  the 
Boston  Oyster  Parlors  tempted  him  to  enter. 
He  dined.  He  treated  himself  to  a  bottle  of 
Chablis,  dreamily  remarking  how  remarkably 
that  little  stack  of  silver  lasted,  and  then  to  a 
cab  to  the  railway  office,  where  at  4  P.M.  he  in 
quired  of  a  clerk  where  he  could  see  the  general 
manager.  The  clerk  looked  askance  at  the 
battered,  browned,  four-year  old  hat  on  the 
caller's  head,  and  said  the  manager  was  busy. 
But  the  manager  was  a  Loyal  Legion  man,  and 
had  most  jovially  bidden  the  captain  to  drop  in 
and  see  him  anytime  only  the  night  before. 

"Is  it  anything  I  can  attend  to  for  you,"  said 
the  clerk,  somewhat  airily. 

"  Possibly,"  said  the  captain ;  "  but  Mr.  Eos- 
well  asked  me  to  call  only  as  late  as  last  night." 

"  Oh,  then,  I'll  take  in  your  card,"  said  the 
clerk.  "He's  dictating  some  telegrams  at  this 
moment." 

And  that  reminded  Dreams  that  not  a  word 
had  he  despatched  to  Horatia.  He  was  thinking 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  41 

mournfully  of  this  and  not  of  the  card  as  he 
drew  one  out  of  the  flat,  gray  card-case  that 
seemed  unaccountably  fatter ;  but  Horatia  often 
tucked  in  fresh  supplies  of  cards  when  his 
pocket  stock  was  running  low.  The  clerk  took 
it,  started,  got  as  far  as  the  door  to  the  inner 
sanctum,  glanced  at  the  card,  then  stopped  short 
and  looked  curiously  back  at  the  visitor,  who  was 
now  plunged  in  a  brown  study  and  seriously 
contemplating  a  railway  map  without  having 
the  faintest  idea  what  was  on  it. 

Still  he  could  hear,  and  what  he  heard  was 
this :  "  You  tell  Mr.  Brenham  that  I've  been 
bothered  enough  for  one  day,  and  if  he  has  any 
thing  further  to  say  to  put  it  in  writing.  I 
haven't  time  to  see  him." 

But  why  should  the  clerk  come  out  and  say 
to  him  "  Mr.  Roswell's  too  busy,  and  says  to  put 
your  business  in  writing." 

"I'll  do  it,"  said  Dreams,  irate  once  more, 
and  asked  for  pen  and  paper  and  sat  him  down 
to  draw  up  a  formal  complaint  against  the  rail 
way  officials  already  referred  to.  It  occupied 
him  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  there  was 
much  coming  and  going.  Then  he  arose, 
handed  it  to  the  clerk,  who  looked  at  him  in  a 
4* 


42  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

puzzled  way  even  Dreams  could  not  but  notice. 
Then  he  meandered  off  to  the  Amaranth,  and 
met  a  placid-looking  citizen  at  the  foot  of  the 
office  stairs  who  motioned  to  another,  and  be 
tween  these  two  Captain  D.  was  civilly  given  to 
understand  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  him 
at  the  police  station,  in  short,  the  chief  himself. 
De  Remer  wanted  to  ask  questions,  but  the 
"  gents"  displayed  silver  stars  on  their  waist 
coats  and  utter  indifference  to  his  wishes  in  that 
behalf  and  a  degree  of  calm  determination  that 
silenced  remonstrance.  In  ten  minutes  more  a 
much  aggrieved  and  bewildered  captain  of  in 
fantry  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  awe- 
inspiring  head  of  the  force,  and  that  shrewd 
official  looked  at  once  as  surprised  at  Dreams 
did  bewildered. 

"  Sure  there's  no  mistake  ?"  he  asked  the 
imperturbable  "  sleuths." 

"  None  !  This  is  the  party.  We  tracked  him 
easy.  You  won't  deny  having  spent  the  night 
at  Belt  Junction  and  giving  the  •station-master 
this  ticket,  I  suppose,"  said  one,  holding  forth 
the  old  pasteboard. 

"  Of  course  not,  and  I'm  glad  to  get  it  again," 
and  Dreams  stretched  forth  his  hand  even  as  the 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  43 

other  gent  deftly  felt  in  that  change  pocket  and 
drew  forth  the  card-case. 

"  Here's  part  of  the  property,  now,"  said  he, 
to  the  chief.  "  What  did  you  do  with  the  hun 
dred  dollars  ?" 

"  What  hundred  dollars  ?" 

"  The  hundred  dollars  that  was  in  that  change 
pocket." 

"  I  never  had  more  than  five  dollars  there  in 
my  life,  and  came  near  losing  that." 

Again  a  prying  finger  and  thumb  were  at  work. 
"  What's  this,  then  ?"  said  the  officer,  raking  out 
a  dusky  roll,  unfolding  which  he  displayed  a  pad 
of  ten  and  twenty  dollar  greenbacks. 

"  I  never  saw  it  before  or  knew  it  was  there. 
Let  me  explain  this  thing.  I  took  supper  at  the 
Amaranth  late  last  night,  and  shoved  some 
change  into  another  man's  pocket."  (Here 
the  chief  looked  incredulous  and  the  deputies 
grinned  with  enjoyment.)  "I  discovered  it  in 
time,  and  went  back  to  find  that  I'd  got  the 
wrong  overcoat.  I  whipped  it  off  and  put  on 
this,  my  own,  which  was  hanging  on  the  next 
peg,  but  somebody  even  more  absent-minded 
than  I  must  have  thrust  this  money  in  here. 
'Tisn't  mine,"  said  Dreams. 


44  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

""Well,  tell  us  something  we  don't  know, 
Johnny,"  said  one  of  them,  with  an  affable 
smile.  "  Of  course  'tisn't  yours,  neither  is  the 
card-case.  The  gentleman  the  coat  belongs  to 
'11  be  here  in  a  moment,  and  then  you  can  ex 
plain  further.  That  the  style  of  hat  they  wear 
at  the  Amaranth  ?" 

"That'll  do,  Murray,"  said  the  chief,  in  a 
cautionary  tone.  "  You've  sent  for  Mr.  Bren- 
ham,  have  you  ?" 

"  Coming  directly,  sir." 

Presently  the  door  flew  open  and  in  popped 
the  representative  of  the  Buckhorn  District. 
He  was  still  flushed — with  excitement,  probably. 

"  Is  this  your  card-case  and  money  ?"  said  the 
chief. 

"It  certainly  is,"  said  Brenham,  looking 
thankfully  at  those  items,  and  then  in  a  misty, 
uncertain  way  at  Dreams.  "  You  don't  mean  to 
say — this — gentlem  an ' ' 

"  ISTobody  else,"  was  the  brief  response. 

And  then  the  two  gentlemen  fell  to  studying 
each  other's  overcoat,  then  that  which  each 
was  wearing,  and  then  the  latest  arrival  re 
marked,  "  Didn't  I  see  you  in  evening  dress  at 
the  Amaranth  last  night  with  Colonel  Tintop  ?" 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  45 

"You  did,  and  I'm  in  evening  dress  yet," 
said  Captain  de  Remer,  throwing  open  his  over 
coat. 

"And  I'll  be  damned  if  that  isn't  my  over 
coat  you've  got  on,"  said  the  M.  C.,  "  and  this 
then  must  be  yours." 

The  chief  burst  out  laughing.  "  Gentlemen, 
do  you  often  dine  at  the  Amaranth  ?  Now  sup 
pose  you  introduce  yourselves  to  each  other, 
since  your  card-cases  seem  to  have  got  mixed 
with  your  coats, — and  possibly  other  items." 

"  By  God !  Think  of  my  wearing  this  all 
day,  and  never  knowing  it  wasn't  my  own!" 
said  the  Congressman  elect,  contemplating  with 
satisfaction  the  fine  texture  and  finish  of  the 
captain's  coat.  "  I  think,  so  far  as  coats  are  con 
cerned,  I've  the  best  of  the  swap." 

"  Then  will  you  make  it  permanent  ?"  said  the 
captain ;  "  for  I  regret  to  say  I  met  with  a  mis 
hap  and  ruined  yours,  and  it  was  all  due  to  my 
unpardonable  stupidity." 

"Let's  go  somewhere  and  have  a  small 
bottle,"  said  the  M.  C. 

"  Let  me  first  wire  to  my  wife  that — I've  been 
found,"  said  Dreams. 


46  CAPTAIN  DREAMS. 

Three   days    later   the  following    letter  was 
received  at  Fort  Emory. 

11  Q.  K.  &  X.  Railway. 
GENERAL  MANAGER'S  OFFICE. 

"February  10,  189-. 

"  CAPTAIN  J.  A.  DE  REMER, 

THIRTY-THIRD  U.  S.  INFANTRY,  FORT  EMORY. 
"DEAR  SIR, — Immediately  upon  receipt  of 
your  letter  of  the  7th  inst,  the  station-master  at 
Belt  Line  Junction,  Omaha  Division,  and  the 
gateman  at  the  Great  Western  station,  were 
summoned  to  answer  to  the  very  serious  charges 
preferred  against  them,  and,  after  full  investiga 
tion,  I  am  constrained  to  say  that,  while  the 
station-master  frankly  admits  having  used  lan 
guage  which  would  have  been  most  reprehen 
sible,  ordinarily,  there  appears  to  have  been 
some  warrant  for  his  suspicions,  as  both  he 
and  the  gateman  declare  that  the  ticket  you 
exhibited  was  a  Bulwer  accommodation  made 
out  for  the  Hon.  Jeremiah  Brenham,  M.  C. 
elect.  That  the  gatemen  should  have  put  you 
on  the  Omaha  train  was,  therefore,  their  duty, 
and  that  the  station-master  should  have  failed 
to  show  you  the  respect  due  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman  is  a  matter  which  he  most  deeply 


CAPTAIN  DREAMS.  47 

regrets,  and  is  most  anxious  to  atone  for,  and 
which  I  can  find  it  easier  to  explain  to  you  in 
person  if  you  will  honor  me  by  lunching  with 

me  at  the  Amaranth  next  time  you " 

But  here  Horatia  interposed.  "The  next 
time  you  go  to  town  to  lunch  it  will  be  with 
me,  John ;  and  as  for  the  Loyal  Legion  and  the 
Amaranth,  we'll  visit  them  when  they  introduce 
Ladies'  Nights,  and  not  before." 


THE   EBB-TIDE. 


c       d 


49 


THE   EBB-TIDE. 

LORD  GROSVENOR  and  Mr.  Edward  Paget  were 
sitting  in  a  little  smoking-room  that  looked  into 
a  brilliantly  lighted  ballroom  in  the  country 
mansion  of  Sir  Hugh  Moffatt,  Bart.  The  occa 
sion  was  that  of  the  celebration  of  the  return 
of  Sir  Hugh  from  America,  bringing  as  his 
bride  one  of  the  fairest  of  the  reigning  daughters 
of  San  Francisco.  The  air  was  stirred  with 
strains  of  exquisite  music,  the  production  of 
finished  artists  carefully  selected  by  Sir  Hugh, 
and  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  innumerable 
cut  flowers  from  the  most  renowned  conserva 
tories  of  London.  Banners,  jacks,  and  pen 
nants  drooped  from  the  walls  and  floated  over 
head,  reflecting  in  soft  harmony  the  tints  of 
colored  lights  shed  from  brackets  and  chande 
liers  hung  in  carefully  chosen  places.  The  gay 
company  was  in  its  most  pleasant  mood.  The 
happiness  produced  by  long  drives  in  the  clear 
May  evening  was  heightened  by  the  inviting 
v  of  the  lawns  and  approaches  of  the 


52  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

mansion,  lit  with  many  colored  lanterns,  and 
flashing  with  torches,  and  by  the  cordial  warmth 
of  the  reception  that  greeted  each  newly-arriving 
guest. 

Lord  Grosvenor  and  Mr.  Paget,  being  gentle 
men  whose  long  contact  with  society  had  dulled 
the  keen  edge  that  finds  delight  in  such  gather 
ings,  had  slipped  away  into  this  little  card-room, 
and  were  beaming  complaisant  approbation 
through  the  door  upon  the  whirling  mass  of 
rich  silks,  flashing  jewels,  dress  suits,  and  gay 
uniforms.  Lord  Harry  had  pushed  back  the 
ice  and  straws  that  remained  from  a  mint 
julep,  and  was  in  the  act  of  lighting  a  Turkish 
cigarette. 

"Will  you  have  a  cigarette,  Paget;  or  do 
you  prefer  to  commit  suicide  in  a  more  rapid 
manner?"  inquired  he,  extending  an  enameled 
silver  case  of  the  questionable  fumables. 

"  Thanks ;  don't  care  to  smoke,  my  boy. 
Fact  is,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Actually  got  an  idea  in  your  head,  eh  ? 
Congratulate  you !  Don't  wrestle  with  it  too 
hard,  or  you  will  bring  up  in  an  insane  asylum. 
Let's  punish  another  round  of  this  mixture." 
Lord  Harry  industriously  pushed  the  button. 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  53 

"Yes;  that  is,  I'm  thinking  Moffatt  must 
have  had  some  deuced  good  reason  for  taking 
up  with  that  girl.  He  doesn't  need  money,  and 
he  has  been  proof  against  some  rushing  heart- 
breakers  in  his  day.  Deuced  queer,  old  man, — 
some  good  reason  for  it." 

The  progress  of  the  dance  at  this  moment 
placed  Sir  Hugh  and  his  bride  opposite  the 
open  draperies  of  the  smoking-room.  A  soft, 
red  light  fell  upon  them  from  a  chandelier 
overhead,  and  behind  them  rose  the  broad 
green  leaves  of  a  huge  fan  palm.  Sir  Hugh 
bent  fondly  over  her  a  moment,  waiting  for  the 
figure  to  begin.  Her  body  swayed  towards  him, 
and  her  downcast  eyes  were  lifted  slowly  and 
confidently  to  his ;  the  effect  was  one  of  melan 
choly  beauty.  Tall,  round,  and  full  of  figure, 
with  heavy  dark-brown  hair,  rosy  cheeks,  dark 
eyes  and  long  ashes, — quite  an  impressive  type 
of  San  Francisco  loveliness.  The  music  started 
the  dancers  whirling  and  the  happy  host  and 
hostess  were  lost  in  the  throng  again. 

The  pair  in  the  smoking-room  had  quit  their 

glasses  and  sat  staring  through  the   doorway. 

Lord  Harry  rose  and  stood  for  a  moment  with 

one  hand  parting  the  drapery  over  the   door, 

5* 


54  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

trying  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  her  Ameri 
can  ladyship.  Then  he  returned  and  fell  into 
his  chair. 

"Phew!  Deuced  pretty  girl.  Don't  blame 
the  boy.  Have  to  congratulate  him,  eh?  Ha! 
ha !  Good  reason,  yes ;  fairly  good.  He  mar 
ried  that  girl  for  her  looks."  Lord  Harry  lit 
another  cigarette  and  tipped  back  his  chair. 

"More  than  looks,  my  boy;  there  is  a 
romance  in  it.  Moflatt  never  tripped  up  on 
looks  alone.  I  heard  Wilston  saying  something 
about  it  the  other  day.  When  he  gets  tired 
of  dancing  a  bit,  we'll  drag  him  in  here  and 
pump  it  out  of  him.  Wilston  says  he  met 
her  at  a  hop  at  the  Bear  Island  Navy- Yard, 
up  in  the  bay  of  San  Francisco, — you  know, — 
that  place  where  they  harbor  a  lot  of  old  tubs 
that  look  like  Bedford  whalers;  and  where  it 
takes  them  so  long  to  armor  a  cruiser  that  the 
style  changes  five  times  before  they  get  it  into 
commission.  Deuced  romantic  place  for  a 
romance.  I  say,  you  go  out  and  chase  Moffatt 
in ;  you  know  him  a  bit  better  than  I  do." 

"  Well,  you  get  things  ready  to  entertain  him 
at  his  own  expense,  and  I'll  try  and  fetch  him. 
I'll  have  to  apologize  to  him  for  being  seen  in 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  55 

here  with  you, — of  course,  you  don't  mind?" 
His  lordship  rose  and  waggishly  twisted  the 
end  of  his  moustache. 

"Go  on;  don't  be  an  idiot!"  Mr.  Paget  re 
plied,  pushing  his  lordship  through  the  door 
and  drawing  the  curtains  after  him. 

In  a  few  minutes  hehold  the  three  comforta 
bly  seated  around  the  table,  with  more  mint 
juleps  and  cigarettes  in  the  centre.  Sir  Hugh 
pushed  back  his  glass  with  a  look  of  pain. 

"Why  don't  you  youngsters  learn  decent 
habits?"  he  inquired.  "A  few  more  of  those 
mint  juleps  and  I  shall  be  under  the  unpleasant 
necessity  of  attending  your  funerals.  Paget, 
be  good  enough  to  push  the  button.  So  you 
want  to  know  how  I  came  to  marry,  eh? 
Can't  stop  long, — she  might  be  looking  for  me, 
— but  I  don't  mind  telling  you;  it  was  rather 
odd, — quite  romantic,  you  may  say.  Jones, 
mix  three  Jamaica  rum  cock-tails,  and  put  a 
little  Scotch  whisky  in  them.  You  know — the 
kind  the  American  minister  mixes  for  the 
King  of  Greece;  and  be  quick  about  it."  Sir 
Hugh  bit  off  the  end  of  a  cigar. 

"  You  see  it's  all  about  the  ebb-tide,  a  favorite 
little  superstition  of  mine.  My  father  was  a 


56  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

naval  officer,  and  I  was  born  on  board  ship 
when  his  craft  lay  out  in  the  Mersey,  just  as 
the  high  tide  was  ebbing.  That  doesn't  seem 
at  all  strange,  but  father  never  let  me  forget  it ; 
used  to  tell  me  when  I  was  a  boy  that  it  was  an 
unusual  thing.  Then  when  I  was  at  college  he 
and  some  of  his  men  were  killed  in  a  boat  while 
chasing  pirates  into  the  mouth  of  a  river  in 
Africa,  and  the  ebb-tide  brought  the  boat  back 
out  to  sea,  in  sight  of  the  ship,  and  they  put 
out  and  rescued  the  bodies.  After  that,  when  I 
was  a  subaltern  in  the  Indian  service,  I  was 
ordered  from  Calcutta  to  join  a  small  detach 
ment  up  the  Brahmapootra  by  sunset  of  a  certain 
day.  A  part  of  the  distance  we  were  obliged 
to  make  in  a  pulling  boat ;  but  the  high  tide  was 
ebbing  swiftly,  and  we  were  delayed  more  than 
three  hours.  On  our  arrival  we  found  that  the 
native  garrison  had  mutined,  killed  every  Sahib 
in  sight,  and  took  to  the  tall  timber.  If  there 
had  been  a  flood-  instead  of  an  ebb-tide,  I  should 
have  gone  to  heaven  as  a  representative  from 
Assam,  instead  of  being  here  to  instruct  you  in 
the  mysteries  of  Jamaica  rum  punch.  These 
little  incidents,  gentlemen,  and  some  others 
that  I  shall  not  take  time  to  tell  you  of,  have 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  57 

led  me  to  believe  that  tlie  ebb-tide  has  some 
sort  of  propitious  influence  over  my  destiny; 
therefore,  when  I  tell  you  that  it  is  to  the  ebb 
tide  that  I  am  indebted  for  my  bride,  you  will 
agree  with  me.  My  regards,  gentlemen;  tell 
me  how  you  like  this,  and  I  will  continue." 

"Elegant!"  said  Grosvenor;  "mint  julep  isn't 
anywhere !" 

"Capital!"  said  Paget,  smacking  his  lips. 
"  "Where  did  you  learn  to  make  it  ?" 

"  An  American  chap  from  Philadelphia  taught 
me  the  compound.  Be  careful  you  do  not  take 
too  many  of  them."  Sir  Hugh  lit  his  cigar. 
"I  must  hurry,  gentlemen;  some  one  will  be 
hunting  me  presently.  You  will  pardon  me  if 
I  go  on  with  the  story  ?" 

"Yes,  yes;  go  on!" 

"  "Well,  you  remember  that  I  went  to  America 
with  Wilston  in  his  yacht  <  White  "Wings/  and 
that  he  left  me  in  San  Francisco  and  came  back 
without  me.  One  day,  while  we  were  lying  in 
the  bay  off  Alcatraz  Island,  we  received  an  in 
vitation  to  attend  a  hop  to  be  given  by  the  offi 
cers  of  the  navy-yard  at  Bear  Island.  As  all 
had  engagements  to  go  out  that  night  except 
myself,  I  determined  to  go  and  represent  the 


58  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

party.  A  Mr.  McWhite,  of  St.  Louis,  who  had 
been  calling  on  us,  offered  to  accompany  me; 
and  I  was  glad  to  have  his  society,  for  he  was  a 
genial  chap,  and  I  dreaded  to  make  the  trip 
alone.  He  assured  me  that  the  train  for  Gal- 
lego,  which  is  a  town  on  the  mainland  opposite 
Bear  Island,  did  not  leave  until  half-past  four; 
at  which  time  we  would  be  joined  by  some  other 
naval  officers  from  the  harbor,  and  we  would 
have  quite  a  party  on  our  way  to  the  hop. 

"  I  sauntered  quietly  about  the  yacht  until  a 
little  after  four,  then  had  the  launch  pull  along 
side,  dropped  my  valise  containing  my  full  dress 
suit  into  it,  and  steamed  over  to  the  wharf  from 
which  the  ferry  started.  Leaving  word  with  the 
coxswain  that  I  was  not  to  be  expected  back  un 
til  the  next  morning  at  ten,  I  entered  the  ferry- 
house,  purchased  my  ticket  for  Gallego,  and  be 
gan  to  hunt  for  my  promised  companions.  To 
my  astonishment,  not  one  was  to  be  found.  Evi 
dently  they  had  boarded  the  ferry-boat,  so  I  went 
on,  and,  leaving  my  valise  with  a  porter,  searched 
the  boat  over  and  over,  still  without  success. 
Just  as  the  boat  was  casting  loose  I  went  aft, 
and  beheld,  in  the  act  of  crossing  the  plank,  my 
friend  Me  White,  with  a  valise  and  top- coat  and 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  59 

a  countenance  too  long  to  appear  in  a  single 
issue. 

" '  What's  the  matter  ?'  I  exclaimed,  embracing 
him. 

"<  Matter!'  he  gasped,  blankly.  *  Matter! 
Why,  we're  two  blithering,  blooming  slobs! 
That's  what's  the  matter !' 

"  <  How's  that  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?' 

"  <  Why,  we're  left ;  that's  all.' 

" <  You're  mistaken ;  we're  here.  It's  the  rest 
of  the  party  that  is  left.' 

"  Mr.  Me  White  cast  upon  me  a  look  of  mortal 
anguish. 

" '  I  tell  you  we  are  left !  The  train  we 
should  have  taken  starts  at  four.  All  the  rest 
are  on  it ;  they  think  we  have  given  up  the  trip : 
there  is  no  way  of  sending  them  any  word,  and 
there  is  not  another  ferry  to  Gallego  until  to 
morrow  morning.  If  you  can  fancy  yourself 
left  any  worse  than  that,  you  must  have  a  very 
vivid  imagination.' 

"  He  bitterly  seized  me  by  the  arm  and  led 
me  forward,  where  we  both  leaned  over  the  port- 
railing.  A  school  of  porpoises  was  sporting  and 
blowing  among  the  swells  a  short  distance  from 
the  boat.  Following  them  my  eyes  caught  sight 


60  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

of  a  spar  buoy  pointing  its  long  green  finger 
towards  the  Golden  Gate.  All  of  the  ships  in 
the  harbor  were  turned  with  their  sterns  to  the 
sea,  like  a  lot  of  impecunious  gentlemen  at  a 
church  fair  in  the  presence  of  a  subscription 
collector.  Then  an  idea  rushed  Into  my  mind : 
it  was  the  ebb-tide. 

"  As  I  gazed  into  the  water,  the  idea  took 
possession  of  me,  and  every  visible  object  forced 
the  impression  more  deeply  upon  my  conscious 
ness.  The  ripples  on  the  land  side  of  the  rocks, 
the  surf  beating  on  the  shore,  bits  of  wood  and 
spars  floating  out  to  sea, — all  contributed  to 
thrust  this  one  idea  upon  my  thoughts  and 
fasten  it  in  my  mind.  I  turned  to  McWhite. 

"'"We  must  go  on,'  I  said.  *  There  is  no 
turning  back.  Ferry  or  no  ferry,  we  shall  reach 
the  island  to-night.  We  must  reach  the  island 
to-night.' 

" '  Go  on ;  I  perish  with  you,'  he  responded, 
resolutely. 

"  The  boat  touched  the  landing  and  we  hunted 
a  vacant  seat  in  the  cars.  Not  one  familiar  face 
met  our  inquiring  gaze.  The  conductor,  while 
taking  our  tickets,  said  that  our  train  stopped  at 
the  ferry  landing  at  Gallego  Junction,  but  no 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  61 

more  boats  crossed  until  next  morning ;  neither 
did  he  know  of  a  single  small  boat  or  other 
means  of  making  the  crossing  to  Gallego. 

" '  We  will  cross  if  we  have  to  swim,'  I  said. 
McWhite  averred  that,  if  it  were  possible  to 
avoid  it,  he  preferred  not  to  swim. 

"Then  the  train  pulled  away  and  left  us 
standing  on  what  proved  afterwards  to  be  the 
depot  platform,  and  a  sense  of  what  it  is  to  be 
in  a  place  absolutely  devoid  of  light  settled 
upon  us.  I  have  been  in  the  Thames  tunnel 
when  the  gas  supply  gave  out ;  and  I  was  once 
left  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Pyramid  with  an 
extinguished  lantern,  but  never  before  had  I 
understood  that  overwhelming  sense  of  vacancy 
and  dread  which  accompanies  the  total  absence 
of  light.  Not  a  sound  except  that  of  our  own 
footsteps  and  the  rumble  of  the  train  dying 
away  in  the  distance  broke  the  stillness. 

" '  Why  didn't  we  go  back?'  groaned  McWhite. 

" '  Come  on,'  I  answered,  seizing  him  by  the 
arm ;  '  it  is  too  late  for  regrets  now.' 

"We  slowly  felt  our  way  in  the  direction 
towards  which  the  train  had  disappeared,  not 
knowing  what  bottomless  pits  or  hidden  dan 
gers  yawned  to  engulf  us.  After  about  fifty 

6 


62  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

yards  of  such  progress  our  feet  fell  on  gravel, 
and  on  looking  up,  we  beheld  the  stars ;  then,  a 
little  to  our  left,  the  glimmer  of  a  light. 

"McWhite  was  ready  to  burst  into  tears;  I 
could  hear  his  suppressed  sighs.  'Have  you 
said  your  prayers  ?'  he  feebly  inquired.  '  Have 
my  remains  forwarded  to  my  mother.'  Then 
we  struck  out  boldly  in  the  direction  of  the 
light.  Other  lights  began  to  appear,  and  soon 
we  were  aware  that  a  village  nestled  in  a  pocket 
under  the  cliffs.  Presently  we  encountered  a 
pedestrian  crossing  our  path,  who,  in  response 
to  our  anxious  interrogation,  informed  us  that 
he  would  be  glad  to  assist  us  in  any  way ;  that 
he  was  a  Wiltshireman,  and  therefore  glad  to 
be  of  service  to  a  countryman.  It  was  four 
miles  to  Bear  Island,  and  a  difficult  passage;  but 
he  knew  of  a  single  small  boat  owned  by  one 
Pete  Johnson,  who  might  be  persuaded  to  row 
us  over,  provided  the  remuneration  was  suffi 
ciently  advantageous.  The  light  we  saw  was  at 
the  village  tavern,  where  Pete  had  his  lodgings. 
We  entered  the  hostelrie,  and  after  a  glance  at 
the  occupants  there,  tipped  backed  in  various 
attitudes  against  the  wall,  concluded  that  there 
were  neither  philanthropists  nor  foreign  mis- 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  63 

sionaries  among  them.  As  a  precautionary 
measure  we  told  the  proprietor  to  ask  the  gen 
tlemen  what  they  would  have,  and  during  the 
excitement  which  followed  this  invitation  we 
were  presented  to  Pete  Johnson.  Pete  rose, 
stretched  his  arms,  and  replied : 

"  '  Ya-as ;  I  ha'  got  a  bo-at.  I  yust  get  done 
work  to-day,  an'  I  be  purty  tired.  I  tek  you 
'cross  for  six  dollar.  The  tide  he  be  runnin' 
out,  and  it  be  purty  hard  to  row  up  stream.' 

" l  Come !'  said  Me  White,  taking  him  by  the 
arm.  <  Come ;  there  is  not  a  moment  to  lose.' 
As  he  passed  me,  he  whispered,  *  Hurry  up; 
let's  get  him  off  before  he  changes  his  mind.' 
We  hastened  down  to  the  shore,  where  the  surf 
was  beating  ominously  over  the  rocks. 

" 6  Pete,'  said  I,  *  it's  a  long  pull,  and  you  had 
better  take  a  bracer  before  you  start  out.'  I 
handed  him  a  small  flask  that  I  had  in  my 
pocket.  '  Can  you  drink  out  of  a  bottle  ?' 

"  <  My  mother  she  teach  me  to  drink  out  of  a 
bottle,  an'  I  no  ha'  forgot  it,'  he  chuckled.  He 
made  good  the  assertion  by  emptying  the  bottle. 

"We  entered  the  craft,  which  Pete  held 
against  the  shore  with  an  oar.  There  were 
three  seats, — Pete  occupied  the  forward  one, 


64  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

McWhite  that  in  the  stern,  and  myself  the 
second ;  the  valises  filled  the  bow.  Of  all  frag 
ile  crafts  this  was  a  little  more  so  than  any  I 
ever  entered;  flat-bottomed,  short,  without  a 
rudder,  every  movement  threatened  to  capsize 
it. 

"  i  Have  you  an  "  Examiner"  in  your  pocket  ?' 
inquired  McWhite. 

"  <  Yes,'  I  replied. 

"'Well,  hold  on  to  it;  nothing  in  that  will 
ever  go  down!' 

"  As  he  shoved  off,  it  seemed  as  if  we  had 
joined  Charon  in  a  final  journey  across  the 
Styx.  The  waves  heaved  troublously.  A  few 
lights  were  visible  at  distances  which  appeared 
very  great;  among  them  we  detected  the  colored 
lights  of  vessels.  A  green  and  red  pair  appear 
ing  from  the  land  side  passed  so  close  to  us  that 
the  swells  threatened  to  capsize  us.  Then  we 
knew  that  we  were  in  the  track  of  the  river 
boats,  and  we  mentally  parted  our  hair  in  the 
middle  in  heroic  efforts  to  trim  ship,  lest  we 
should  be  buried  beneath  the  swells  of  some 
dark  river  phantom.  I  asked  Pete  if  he  knew 
the  lights. 

"'A  tenk  so/  he  said.     'I  ha'  made  more 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  65 

den  fifty  trips  lak  dis.     De  boat  she  pull  hard 
when  de  tide  go  out.' 

"  I  seized  McWhite  by  the  trousers  to  assure 
myself  that  he  had  not  fallen  overboard;  he 
had  not  uttered  a  word  since  starting,  but, 
although  he  was  quiet,  I  discovered  that  he  was 
easily  riled. 

" '  For  God's  sake,  keep  quiet !'  he  ejaculated. 
*  You'll  have  us  both  at  the  bottom  in  a  min 
ute  ;  and  I  don't  care  to  present  myself  at  the 
heavenly  portal  when  there  is  any  danger  of 
Saint  Peter's  thinking  that  I  am  from  San 
Francisco !' 

"At  this  instant  a  heavy  swell  twisted  the 
boat  half  round  and  doused  us  with  water.  I 
heard  Me  White  groan  fervently. 

" '  It's  all  right,  old  man ;  brace  up.  The  ebb 
tide  never  brought  ill  luck  to  my  family  yet !' 

"  To  trouble  you  further  with  the  details  of 
that  diabolical  four  miles  would  be  wearisome. 
To  go  out  in  the  dark,  into  the  middle  of  a  bay 
with  enough  wind  blowing  to  stir  up  the  white 
caps,— nothing  between  you  and  the  bottom  but 
a  cockle-shell  of  a  boat  with  a  bungling  Swede 
to  manage  it,  all  for  the  sake  of  dancing  a  few 
figures  with  a  lot  of  total  strangers,— is  what 

e  6* 


66  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

any  sane  person  would  call  rabid,  blooming 
idiocy." 

"Then  what  the  devil  did  you  do  it  for?" 
broke  in  Grosvenor,  who  could  not  contain 
himself  any  longer. 

"Don't  be  excited;  that's  just  what  I'm  try 
ing  to  tell  you,"  continued  Sir  Hugh.  "You 
know  that,  according  to  popular  superstition,  if 
you  turn  back  after  starting  to  do  anything,  bad 
luck  will  follow  you  ?  Well,  that  kept  us  from 
turning  back,  and  the  ebb-tide  idea  in  my  head 
kept  us  moving  on.  I  felt  that  something  was 
going  to  happen, — -just  as  surely  as  when  a  man 
touches  a  match  to  a  keg  of  powder.  So  we 
kept  urging  that  Swede  like  a  jockey  does  a 
favorite  on  the  last  heat,  until  we  were  fairly 
under  the  guns  of  a  big  man-of-war  that  was 
lying  at  anchor  below  the  island.  We  passed  it 
a  bit  faster  than  the  usual  rate,  and  so  close  to 
the  ship's  side  that  we  could  see  nothing  at  all 
to  the  starboard.  Just  as  we  rushed  past  the 
bowsprit,  a  huge  black  object  leaped  upon  us 
like  a  locomotive  on  a  parcel  of  rats  in  a  tunnel, 
and  in  an  instant  more  we  were  floundering  in 
the  water. 

"  We  had  been  struck  pretty  hard,  but  fortu- 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  67 

nately  we  were  not  separated.  The  black  object 
had  taken  us  close  astern,  just  behind  poor 
McWhite,  and  had  turned  the  boat  completely 
over,  spilling  us  out  bag  and  baggage,  quicker 
than  the  whisk  of  a  squirrel's  tail.  When  I  got 
the  water  out  of  my  eyes,  I  could  see  by  the 
light  of  the  ship's  lanterns  that  the  boat  had 
righted  itself  and  was  floating  right  side  up 
about  ten  feet  away,  splintered  somewhat,  but 
not  entirely  wrecked.  Pete  was  in  the  act  of 
pulling  himself  over  the  bow,  and  McWhite 
was  threshing  and  struggling,  first  for  the  ship 
and  then  for  the  boat,  whichever  in  his  mad 
evolutions  appeared  next  in  sight.  I  was  vigor 
ously  treading  water  and  shaking  the  brine  out 
of  my  eyes,  endeavoring  to  collect  my  scattered 
ideas.  Pete  had  recovered  an  oar  and  was  in 
dustriously  rescuing  the  baggage,  for  the  safety 
of  which,  thanks  to  closely-locked  leather  cases, 
there  was  little  to  fear. 

"By  the  time  we  had  drifted  back  opposite 
the  port  gangway,  the  watch,  aroused  by  the 
unusual  disturbance,  was  standing  ready  with  a 
line,  and  it  was  my  supreme  joy  to  behold  Pete 
catch  it  at  the  first  throw,  and  pull  himself,  boat 
and  all,  towards  the  ladder.  A  second  and  third 


68  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

line  received  vigorous  bites  from  McWhite  and 
myself,  and  we  were  hauled  in,  drenched  and 
bewildered,  and  more  dead  than  alive,  by  the 
crew  of  the  vessel  that  had  been  the  indirect 
cause  of  our  discomfiture. 

"We  were  in  the  act  of  explaining  matters 
as  volubly  as  our  chattering  teeth  would  permit, 
when  a  large  steam-launch  rushed  alongside 
and  stopped  opposite  the  ladder.  I  heard  a 
woman's  soft  voice  excitedly  inquire  : 

"  '  Do  tell  us ;  were  any  of  them  much  hurt  ? 
were  they  drowned?'  Evidently  this  was  the 
launch  that  had  run  over  us,  and  there  had  been 
no  wrongful  intent  on  the  part  of  the  speaker, 
at  least. 

"  We  were  still  standing  on  the  plank  and  the 
steps  of  the  ladder,  shivering  and  chattering  and 
the  water  running  off  in  streams.  A  naval 
officer  stepped  up  from  the  launch  and  the  out 
line  of  a  lady's  figure  appeared  in  the  door  of 
the  cabin. 

"'Any  of  these  people  hurt?  Who  are 
they?'  the  officer  sharply  asked  one  of  the 
sailors. 

"'No  one  hurt,  sir '  Before  he  could 

continue,  I  stepped  up  and  interrupted  him : 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  69 

" '  Allow  me  to  introduce  myself,  sir,'  I  said. 
<  I  am  Hugh  Moftatt,  of  the  British  yacht 
"  White  Wings/'  and  this  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Mc- 
White,  of  St.  Louis.  We  were  on  our  way  to 
the  hop  to-night  when  your  launch  ran  into  us. 
My  friend  McWhite  is ' 

"'Dead,  sir;  dead!'  put  in  McWhite;  'these 
are  his  defunct  remains.'  His  chattering  teeth, 
however,  indicated  that  life  was  not  entirely 
extinct. 

" i  Come  right  aboard,  gentlemen ;  it  is  impos 
sible  for  me  to  attempt  to  express  my  regret  for 
this  unfortunate  accident.  You  may  discharge 
your  boatman  here  or  take  him  with  you,  as 
you  prefer.' 

" '  How  much  have  we  damaged  you,  Pete  ?' 
I  inquired. 

"  *  I  tenk  about  twenty-five  dollar  fix  dat  boat 
up  dis  time.  I  go  no  more  trips  lak  dis !' 

"'Very  good,  my  man;  you  may  go  now,' 
I  answered.  'We  are  indebted  to  you  in  a 
manner  that  cannot  be  repaid  by  money.'  I 
managed  to  find  the  necessary  coin. 

"We  entered  the  cabin  minus  our  hats,  the 
water  running  over  the  floor  of  the  cabin,  and 
standing  in  pools  under  our  feet.  Wet  and 


70  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

bedraggled,  we  were  sorry  objects  to  look  upon. 
The  naval  officer  turned  to  the  other  occupant 
of  the  cabin,  and,  motioning  towards  us  with  his 
hand,  said : 

" <  Miss  Stanton,  these  gentlemen  were  on  their 
way  to  the  hop  to-night  when  our  launch  cap 
sized  them.  Permit  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Mof- 
fatt,  of  the  British  yacht  "  White  Wings,"  and 
his  friend,  Mr.  Me  White,  of  St.  Louis.' 

" '  I  am  so  sorry !  I  hope  you  are  not  hurt ! 
It  is  a  very  unfortunate  way  of  making  ac 
quaintances,'  said  Miss  Stanton,  beaming  upon 
us  a  smile  of  sympathy  that  would  have  warmed 
the  heart  of  an  Esquimaux. 

"  <  Oh,  no ;  not  inconvenienced  in  the  least,' 
said  Me  White,  holding  out  his  fingers  for  the 
water  to  drain  off.  'Little  incidents  like  this 
are  very  common  with  us, — we  always  enjoy 
them.' 

"B<  Yes,'  I  added,  <  we  will  enjoy  the  hop  more 
than  ever  for  this  little  bath.' 

" '  Then  you  will  not  give  up  the  hop  ?  I  am 
so  glad!  You  deserve  all  the  pleasure  it  is 
possible  for  us  to  afford  you  after  this  dreadful 
accident.  Mr.  Pell,  you  must  take  these  gentle 
men  right  over  to  my  cousin's,  Dr.  Pigett's, 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  71 

quarters,  and  say  he  is  to  take  care  of  them  for 
me.  He  will  be  only  too  glad  to  do  anything  in 
his  power  to  make  you  comfortable.  You  must 
promise  to  come  to  the  hop,  now.'  The  earnest 
look  of  entreaty  in  her  big  brown  eyes  would 
have  disarmed  opposition  in  a  Zulu  brave. 

" '  Yes,'  I  answered,  '  when  we  get  fixed  up  a 
bit,  we  shall  be  only  more  pleased  than  ever  to 
carry  out  our  original  intentions.  I  am  glad  Dr. 
Pigett  is  your  cousin.  I  have  the  honor  of 
knowing  him  very  well.' 

"By  the  time  the  launch  touched  the  dock, 
Mr.  Pell  stood  waiting  for  us  to  land,  and  two 
able  seamen,  with  our  valises  in  their  hands, 
were  in  readiness  to  show  us  the  way  to  the 
Doctor's  quarters.  We  bowed  to  our  rescuers 
and  followed  them,  after  renewing  our  assur 
ances  that  we  would  appear  at  the  hop-room. 
Even  McWhite  spoke  a  trifle  less  sarcastically, 
and  bestowed  a  second  glance  upon  the  owner 
of  the  dark-brown  eyes. 

"Our  reception  by  the  Doctor,  who  was  a 
graduate  of  the  Government  Naval  Academy ; 
the  truly  courteous  manner  in  which  he  placed 
his  quarters  at  our  disposal,  and  exerted  himself 
to  provide  all  that  would  add  to  our  comfort 


72  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

and  make  amends  for  the  mishaps  of  the  day, 
produced  an  indelible  impression  in  my  mind, 
and  spoke  volumes  in  praise  of  the  hospitality 
of  the  officers  of  the  American  navy.  The 
water  had  not  entered  our  valises  to  any  seri 
ous  extent,  so  that  shortly  after  nine  we  made 
our  appearance — a  vastly  improved  appearance 
— in  evening  dress,  and  were  on  our  way  to 
the  hop-room.  As  we  entered,  our  glances 
sought  the  owner  of  the  brown  eyes.  Yes,  she 
was  expecting  us ;  the  brown  eyes  were  turned 
towards  the  door  and  soon  brought  their  owner 
forward  to  greet  us.  It  was  at  this  moment,  I 
think,  that  America  scored  another  victory  over 
Great  Britain  in  her  own  waters, — a  legal  cap 
ture  for  the  brown  eyes, — and  they  have  ever 
since  held  undisputed  possession  of  the  prize. 
It  is  unbecoming  my  present  position,  gentle 
men,  to  enumerate  the  many  reasons  that 
existed  for  the  capture  of  the  Briton ;  but  Paget 
has  known  me  long  enough  to  be  certain  that 
they  were  excellent;  and  for  the  rest,  as  you 
have  already  met  Lady  Moffatt,  you  must  judge 
for  yourselves." 

"  But  what  did  the  ebb-tide  have  to  do  with 
it?"  interrupted  Grosvenor. 


THE  EBB-TIDE.  73 

"Without  the  ebb-tide,  my  lad,  it  would 
never  have  happened.  The  delay  of  our  boat 
by  the  tide  brought  us  under  the  bows  of  the 
*  San  Francisco'  just  in  time  to  be  upset  by  the 
launch  in  which  Miss  Stanton  was  crossing  to 
Bear  Island.  As  she  found  it  getting  late,  she 
had  decided  not  to  attend  the  hop,  and  had 
announced  this,  much  to  Mr.  Pell's  disappoint 
ment,  only  a  moment  before  we  were  struck. 
Then  her  curiosity  to  see  how  we  looked  with 
the  salt  water  out  of  our  eyes,  as  well  as  her 
anxiety  to  assure  herself  that  we  were  repaid 
for  our  accident  by  being  made  to  enjoy  our 
selves,  caused  her  to  reverse  that  decision.  Mr. 
Pell,  although  he  doubtless  felt  himself  repaid 
for  his  labors,  was  required  to  introduce  us  to 
the  entire  assembly,  and  to  look  after  us  gener 
ally  in  a  manner  that  was  an  imposition  upon 
the  good  nature  of  any  white  man.  That  was 
my  first  ball  as  the  guest  of  American  naval 
officers,  and  it  was  one  of  the  memorable  events 
of  my  life.  They  are  truly  polite,  accomplished, 
hospitable, — a  superior  class  of  men;  and  my 
acquaintance  since  has  not  altered  the  impres 
sions  of  that  evening.  But  you  must  excuse 
me  now,  gentlemen ;  her  ladyship  will  be  look- 
D  7 


74  THE  EBB-TIDE. 

ing  for  me.  I  have  told  you  the  ebb-tide  was 
responsible  for  many  things :  among  them,  the 
yacht  <  White  "Wings'  returned  to  England, 
leaving  me  in  San  Francisco, — for  my  health; 
and  to-night  it  has  afforded  me  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  you  here.  To-morrow  at  lunch,  if  you 
will  be  good  enough  to  remain,  Lady  Moffatt 
will  be  glad  to  entertain  you  with  her  version  of 
the  events  of  that  night,  and  you  will  notice 
that,  although  her  name  has  changed  since  she 
first  met  me,  the  color  of  her  eyes  has  not ;  and 
I  think  you  will  agree  with  Me  White,  who  said 
that  evening  when  he  bade  me  good-night : 
" '  It's  an  ill  tide  that  ebbs  nobody  good.' " 


WHITE  LILIES. 


76 


WHITE  LILIES. 

SHE  was  very  young,  not  more  than  seven 
teen,  and  exquisitely  pretty,  in  spite  of  the 
damaging  fact  that  her  dress  was  in  the  very 
highest  height  of  fashion,  and  she  was  the  only 
passenger  who  got  on  board  the  "  Mary  Powell" 
at  West  Point.  She  carried  a  large  hunch  of 
fragrant  fading  white  lilies — my  favorite  flowers 
— in  her  hand,  and  perhaps  it  was  this  as  much 
as  her  beauty  which  caused  me  so  particularly 
to  notice  the  girl  at  first,  but  when  once  I  had 
looked  at  her  I  found  it  difficult  to  turn  my 
eyes  away. 

Around  her  throat  she  wore  a  pair  of  cadet 
chevrons,  brilliant  with  gold  lace,  which  she 
had  arranged  to  form  a  very  gorgeous  collar. 
Her  ear-rings  were  bell-buttons;  bell-buttons 
dangled  and  rattled  upon  the  bangles  on  her 
slender  little  wrists,  and  a  number  of  the  same 
shining  spheres  were  skillfully  fashioned  into  a 
scarf-pin. 

"Evidently,"  I  said  to  myself,  "this  little 
7*  77 


78  WHITE  LILIES. 

maiden  has  been  a  favorite  at  the  Point." 
Presently  she  spread  her  fan,  ornamented  with 
military  designs  done  in  brilliant  water-colors, 
as  well  as  covered  with  autographs,  and  opened 
a  novel,  between  the  pages  of  which  I  could  not 
help  seeing  that  she  had  secreted  a  photograph ; 
and  I  smiled  at  the  innocent  device,  which  was 
one  I  myself  had  not  despised  in  days  gone  by. 

I  was  half  ashamed  of  myself  for  watching 
her,  as  she  sat  so  calmly  unconscious  of  my 
stolen  glances,  but  she  was  so  very  lovely,  with 
her  Titian-yellow  hair,  big,  long-lashed  brown 
eyes,  and  fair  skin,  pink  tinted  like  a  shell; 
and  there  was  a  look  about  her  face  which 
strongly  reminded  me  of  one  who  had  been, 
and  still  was,  very  dear  to  me.  Yes,  she  cer 
tainly  was  like  Clara  Avery.  Could  it  be  that 
she  was  the  little  Lilian — named  after  me — 
whom  I  indistinctly  remembered  as  a  delicate, 
large-eyed  little  creature  of  six,  eleven  long 
years  ago  ? 

"  Highly  improbable,"  I  told  myself.  "  And 
yet,  why  might  it  not  be  ?"  Clara's  home  was 
in  New  York,  and  this  pretty  maiden  must  be 
very  nearly  of  Lilian's  age.  I  grew  quite  excited 
over  my  fancy,  and  finally  decided  to  speak  to 


WHITE  LILIES.  79 

the  subject  of  it.  At  least  I  had  an  excellent 
excuse  for  so  doing,  and,  in  any  event,  I  should 
like  to  know  the  lovely  creature's  name. 

My  camp-chair  was  not  far  removed  from 
hers,  and  drawing  it  still  nearer,  I  said,  half 
apologetically,  "Pardon  me,  but  is  not  your 
name  Avery  ?" 

She  looked  up  with  a  shy,  inquiring  gaze,  and 
answered  simply,  "  Yes,  madam ;  my  name  is 
Avery." 

I  could  scarcely  believe  that  my  fanciful  con 
jecture  had  proved  to  be  the  true  one.  "  And 
is  youi  mother  Clara  Avery?  Can  it  be  that 
you  are  little  Lilian  ?" 

"Yes;  mamma's  name  is  Clara,  and  I  am 
*  little  Lilian,'"  she  replied,  with  a  charming 
smile  and  blush.  "  Are  you  a  friend  of  mam 
ma's?" 

"Yes;  she  is  almost  the  best  friend  I  have 
left  in  America,"  I  returned,  eagerly.  "How 
strange  it  seems  to  meet  Clara's  daughter  in 
this  unexpected  fashion!  "Would  you  believe 
me  if  I  should  tell  you  that  you  are  named  after 
me  ?  Surely  you  have  heard  your  mother  speak 
of  Lilian  Keid— -Lilian  Thornton  now, — though, 
of  course,  you  cannot  remember  me  ?" 


80  WHITE  LILIES. 

She  was  all  excitement  in  a  moment.  "  Oh, 
she  is  always  telling  me  of  you, '  Cousin  Lilian,' 
as  she  has  taught  me  to  call  you,  although  you 
are  not  really  my  cousin,  are  you  ?" 

"  Only  by  a  certain  marriage  which  made  us 
cousins  when  I  was  much  younger  than  you ; 
but  I  have  always  loved  your  mother  as  if  she 
had  been  an  elder  sister.  Dear  Clara !  How 
good  she  has  been  to  me !"  And  I  gave  a  sigh 
to  the  dear  old  memories.  "  You  look  a  great 
deal  like  her,  I  think." 

"  So  every  one  says.  But  I  thought  you  were 
in  Europe,  Cousin  Lilian.  I  may  call  you  that 
still,  mayn't  I  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  I  responded,  warmly.  "  Well, 
I  have  only  just  returned,  and  expected,  during 
my  stay  in  New  York,  to  walk  in  upon  your 
mother  and  surprise  her,  if  she  had  not  moved 
away  since  I  last  heard  from  her, — longer  ago 
than  I  like  to  think  of.  She  is  well,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  thanks !  And  you — I  do  hope  you 
are  going  to  make  us  a  long  visit?" 

"  I  have  yet  to  decide  where  I  shall  take  up  a 
permanent  abode.  Perhaps  it  may  be  in  New 
York ;  and  if  so,  you  will  not  care  for  a  lengthy 
visitation.  You  know  I  am  quite  alone  now, 


WHITE  LILIES.  81 

and  very  lonely,  for  my  mother  and  auntie  both 
died  within  two  years  after  my  marriage ;  and 
since  my  husband's  death,  four  years  ago,  I 
have  led  a  nomadic  existence  abroad,  without 
any  home  and  few  real  friends.  I  dreaded  to 
return  to  America  and  find  all  so  changed,  but 
now  I  am  glad  I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  so. 
And  it  is  so  pleasant  to  have  met  my  little 
namesake  in  this  unexpected  way !" 

Then  ensued  many  questions  and  answers, 
and  much  friendly  talk,  so  that  an  hour  went  by 
and  seemed  like  a  few  moments. 

"And  so  you  have  been  to  West  Point?"  I 
remarked,  finally,  with  rather  a  mischievous 
smile,  when  I  had  heard  all  that  she  could  tell 
me  of  her  home  and  mother. 

"Yes;  I  have  been  there  for  more  than  a 
month,  staying  with  Major  Eliot's  daughter 
Jennie.  It  has  been  simply  a  heavenly  time!" 
with  all  the  empressement  of  seventeen. 

"Do  you  know,  dear,  I  almost  envy  you!"  I 
exclaimed,  with  half  a  sigh. 

"  You  envy  me,  you,  who  are  so  beautiful,  and 
rich,  and — and  everything  !  I  think  you  must  be 
joking !" 

"  Ah,  no !    Am  I  not  twenty-eight  years  old, 


82  WHITE  LILIES. 

and  you  seventeen  ?  Besides,  you  have  just 
been  to  West  Point,  and  I  cherish  most  affec 
tionate  recollections  of  that  dear  old  Paradise. 
I  was  so  happy  there  once !  I  remember  won 
dering  when  I  left  it,  eleven  years  ago,  whether, 
with  all  the  future  might  hold  in  store  for  me 
of  joy  or  triumph,  I  should  ever  know  such 
perfect  happiness  again.  I  never  have.  Noth 
ing  has  been  like  that,  and  never  will  be,  for 
then  the  world  and  I  seemed  young  together, 
now  we  have  both  grown  old." 

Her  face  paled  and  saddened  a  little.  "  Won't 
you  tell  me  about  that  time  ?"  she  asked.  "  You 
don't  know  how  interested  I  should  be." 

"Ah,  my  little  story  is  not  half  as  interest 
ing,  I  fancy,  as  one  you  might  tell  if  you  chose. 
You  would  not  care  to  listen  to  it." 

"  Oh,  indeed  I  should  care,  for  ever  so  many 
reasons !" 

"  You  would  like  to  draw  comparisons,  per 
haps?"  I  smilingly  suggested.  But,  after  all, 
why  should  I  refuse  to  grant  her  request? 
Why  should  I  hold  my  poor  story  as  too  sacred 
for  even  these  sympathetic  young  ears  to  hear  ? 
It  had  all  happened  so  long  ago,  and  it  was  in 
nowise  different  from  a  thousand  other  silly 


WHITE  LILIES.  83 

girlish  romances,  whose  owners  soon  lived  them 
down.  I  ought  now  to  be  able  to  laugh  over  it 
as  freely  as  the  rest  of  the  world  would  do,  and 
yet,  while  I  breathed  the  dying  fragrance  of 
those  lilies,  and  looked  out  wistfully  upon  the 
beautiful  familiar  river  scenery,  somehow  I  could 
not  laugh. 

"  Go  and  find  a  glass  of  water,  then,  for  your 
poor  lilies,"  I  said,  "for  I  can't  tell  a  story 
while  my  favorite  flowers  lie  dying  before  my 
eyes." 

When  she  had  done  my  bidding,  I  found 
myself  compelled  to  keep  the  tacit  promise, 
repented  as  soon  as  made. 

"I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin,"  I  hesi 
tated,  "but  perhaps  it  had  better  be  with  the 
arrival  of  an  invitation  to  visit  my  Uncle  and 
Aunt  Ferguson,  who  lived  a  mile  or  two  below 
West  Point.  How  wild  with  delight  I  was  over 
that  invitation,  and  how  my  heart  sank  propor 
tionately  when  poor  little  mamma  sadly  told  me 
she  could  not  possibly  afford  the  money  for  my 
journey  or  outfit !  My  bright  visions  vanished 
in  a  moment,  like  the  airiest  of  bubbles;  but, 
though  I  gave  up  my  anticipated  pleasure 
meekly  enough,  I  could  not  resist  writing  a 


84  WHITE  LILIES. 

doleful  epistle  to  your  mother,  who  at  that  time 
was  the  confidante  of  all  my  little  troubles. 
Then,  just  as  soon  as  it  could  possibly  arrive, 
came  a  note  from  her,  containing  a  pass  she  had 
begged  for  me  from  her  husband's  uncle,  who, 
you  know,  was  a  very  noted  railroad  magnate  in 
those  days.  Dear  Clara !  How  good  it  was  of 
her !  And  yet,  in  the  time  that  came  after,  I 
sometimes  wished  that  my  letter  to  her  had 
never  been  written. 

"  Well,  the  arrival  of  the  pass  caused  a  grand 
family  consultation  regarding  *  ways  and  means.' 
Mamma  sacrificed  her  cherished  wedding-gown, 
creamy  with  age,  to  my  modern  vandalism  that 
I  might  have  a  pretty  ball-dress,  and  the  veil 
was  devoted  to  the  purpose  of  trimming.  Aunt 
Mary  laid  at  my  shrine  a  black  grenadine  she 
had  intended  making  up  for  herself;  so,  with 
two  or  three  pretty  muslins,  my  new  outfit  was 
complete,  and  I  experienced  more  pleasure  in 
its  possession  than  I  ever  have  since  in  the  most 
elaborate  Worth-made  costumes.  It  was  the 
day  of  the  graduation  hop  when  I  arrived  at 
West  Point,  I  remember,  and  Aunt  Ellen  Fer 
guson  was  going.  She  looked  at  me  in  surprise 
when  she  first  saw  me, — a  tall,  slim  girl  of 


WHITE  LILIES.  85 

seventeen, — exclaiming,  <  Why,  here  we  have  a 
young  lady  where  I  expected  to  see  a  mere 
child!  I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  trouble  with 
you :  you  look  dangerous.  I  hope,  at  all  events, 
you  are  not  a  flirt  ?' 

"  '  We  never  know  what  we  may  be  until  we 
are  tempted,  mamma  says,'  I  replied,  demurely ; 
and  I  but  faintly  comprehended  when  Aunt 
Ellen  shook  her  head,  murmuring,  <  Oh,  those 
terrible  cadets !  I  doubt  I  shall  have  my  hands 
full.' 

"I  had  no  ornaments  to  wear  at  the  hop, 
whither  Aunt  Ellen  proposed  to  take  me;  so, 
with  her  permission,  I  robbed  the  garden  of 
half  its  wealth  of  fragrant  lilies,  to  pin  them  on 
my  dress  and  in  my  hair  and  bosom,  and  tried 
to  stifle  my  longing  for  a  pearl  necklace  and 
ear-rings  to  match. 

"  It  was  the  custom  then,  just  as  it  is  now,  I 
suppose,  for  the  '  floor  managers'  at  the  hops  to 
address  strange  ladies  and  bring  up  cadets  to 
introduce  to  them,  and  so,  though  I  knew  no 
one  at  first,  I  had  not  been  in  the  hop-room  half 
an  hour  before  my  card  was  well  filled  with 
names.  It  was  all  so  new  and  wonderful  to 
me, — the  brilliantly-lighted  mess  hall,  with  its 

8 


86  WHITE  LILIES. 

draping  of  flags  of  all  nations,  the  striking 
uniforms  of  officers  and  cadets,  and,  above  all, 
the  glorious  music  of  the  band,  which  alone 
would  have  sufficed  to  make  me  fancy  myself  in 
Paradise.  I  forgot  my  lack  of  pearls,  the  thin 
ness  of  my  silk,  the  limpness  of  my  ancient 
tulle,  and  was  fain  to  believe  (in  spite  of  former 
impressions  to  the  contrary)  that  I  must  indeed 
be  the  charming  and  fascinating  person  those 
gray-coated  heroes  pretended  to  think  me.  But 
pride,  you  know,  is  said  to  precede  a  fall,  and  so 
it  was  with  ine  presently  when  the  conviction 
was  disagreeably  forced  upon  me  that  I  was  not 
as  irresistible  as,  just  for  that  one  evening,  I 
would  gladly  have  fancied:  there  was  a  cadet 
who  refused  to  be  introduced  to  me  ! 

"I  could  not  help  noticing  him,  for  he  was 
handsomer  than  any  one  else  in  the  room, 
although  he  had  rather  a  gloomy  or  preoccupied 
air,  and  watched  the  dancing  without  ever  join 
ing  in  it.  Several  times  I  had  chanced  to  meet 
his  eyes,  and  finally  had  been  moved  to  ask  his 
name  of  one  of  my  partners,  so  that  when  pres 
ently  I  saw  the  two  speaking  together,  I  fancied 
I  could  guess  the  subject  of  their  conversation, 
and  was  not  displeased.  By  and  by  Mr.  Abbott 


WHITE  LILIES.  87 

— I  believe  that  was  my  partner's  name — came 
back  to  me  alone,  and  I  immediately  put  a 
question  which,  had  I  been  a  little  older,  I 
should  have  left  unsaid :  *  Were  you  asking  that 
cadet,  Mr.  Hancock,  to  be  introduced  to  me  ?' 

" '  Ye-es,'  he  stammered,  looking  rather  un 
comfortable. 

" '  And  he  wouldn't  come  ?' 

"  '  He  said  he  didn't  know  how  to  amuse 
young  ladies.  He  doesn't  often  dance,  you  see, 
or  have  much  to  say  to  any  woman  who  isn't 
old  enough  to  be  his  grandmother,'  Mr.  Abbott 
proceeded  to  explain.  <  He's  a  good  fellow,  and 
a  fine  student,  but  he  cares  more  for  his  "  Math" 
than  anything  else.  We  call  him  "Diogenes" 
among  ourselves.  I  shouldn't  have  spoken  to 
him  now,  but  I  thought  you  might  like  to  meet 
him,  for  the  sake  of  the  contrast,  you  know,  to 
the  rest  of  us  fellows.' 

"  Oddly  enough,  I  was  not  in  the  least  of 
fended  because  my  acquaintance  was  not  desired 
by  the  big,  handsome  cadet  who  cared  for  his 
4  Math'  above  all  other  things.  I  was  scarcely 
piqued  even,  but  I  was  interested  and  a  little 
curious  regarding  the  new  species  of  young  man 
to  whom  *  Diogenes'  could  be  an  appropriate 


88  WHITE  LILIES. 

nickname.  A  little  later  I  was  resting  under 
Aunt  Ellen's  wing,  and  mourning  the  loss  of 
my  breast-knot  of  lilies,  which  was  sadly  *  con 
spicuous  by  its  absence,'  when  'Diogenes'  ap 
peared  with  the  missing  flowers. 

"  <  These  are  yours,  are  they  not  ?'  he  ques 
tioned,  holding  them  out  to  me. 

" '  Thanks !'  said  I,  stretching  forth  my  hand, 
when  suddenly  he  half  withdrew  his  which 
held  the  lilies.  <  May  I  keep  one  ?'  he  asked, 
abruptly. 

" '  If  you  like,'  I  began,  when  Aunt  Ellen, 
who  had  been  conversing  with  a  friend,  turned 
and  saw  my  companion.  <  Oh,  Mr.  Hancock !' 
she  exclaimed ;  <  then  you  have  met  my  niece  ?' 

" '  I  have  not  had  the  honor,'  he  said,  rather 
stiffly,  and  to  my  embarrassment  she  immediately 
performed  the  ceremony  of  an  introduction.  I 
was  half  vexed,  half  mischievously  pleased,  for 
had  not  Mr.  Hancock  brought  this  undesired 
acquaintance  upon  himself?  He  need  not  have 
been  so  scrupulously  honest  in  the  matter  of 
my  lilies  if  my  presence  was  something  to  be 
shunne(J. 

"  It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  <  ger- 
man'  would  soon  be  commencing  over  at  the 


WHITE  LILIES.  89 

academic    building,    and    many    people    were 
already  deserting  the  mess  hall. 

" '  You  have  no  partner  for  the  german  ?'  he 
asked. 

"'Oh,  no;  I  only  came  to-night,  and  auntie 
tells  me  that  partners  are  engaged  for  this  ger 
man  weeks  before  the  time.' 

"  <  Will  you  dance  it  with  me,  then  ?  though  I 
warn  you  I  am  not  a  good  partner.' 

"After  what  Mr.  Abbott  had  told  me  this 
invitation  surprised  me  so  much  that  I  scarcely 
remembered  the  necessity  of  answering,  but 
rising  confusedly  I  accepted  his  arm,  and  we 
went  away  to  the  academic  building. 

"  Miles  Hancock  was  not  like  any  one  I  had 
ever  seen,  or  ever  have  seen  since,  I  think.  He 
did  not  talk  to  me  as  most  young  men  think  it 
their  duty  to  talk  to  girls.  He  told  me  a  few 
quaint  stories  about  the  origin  of  some  figures 
in  the  german,  and  then — suggested  by  those, 
it  may  be — something  of  the  two  years  he  had 
passed  in  Germany  before  coming  to  West  Point. 

"  Sometimes,  when   it  was   not  our  turn   to 
dance,  we  went  out  and  walked  in  the  moon 
light,  and  then,  instead  of  watching  its  effect 
upon  my  upturned  face  (as  I  felt  morally  sure 
8* 


90  WHITE  LILIES. 

Mr.  Abbott  would  have  done),  he  gravely  dis 
coursed  about  Copernicus  and  Tycho  Brahe, 
until  he  roused  me  to  an  unfeigned  interest  in 
subjects  I  thought  I  had  discarded  with  my 
school-books  a  year  ago.  How  childish  and 
silly  I  felt  in  comparison  with  him !  and  how  I 
resolved  to  get  out  my  books  when  I  went 
home,  and  learn  to  talk  on  topics  he  was  in 
terested  in ! 

" '  Your  lily  is  faded,'  I  said  when  the  german 
had  come  to  an  end ;  '  you  had  better  throw  it 
away.' 

"  <  Oh,  no,'  he  returned ;  <  I  mean  to  press  it 
and  keep  it.  I  should  not  have  asked  for  it  else.' 

" '  To  remind  you  of  this  evening,  or  to  make 
you  smile  when  you  think  of  me — and  my  igno 
rance  ?' 

"  '  Of  neither,'  said  he,  coolly,  quenching  my 
incipient  vanity.  '  I  asked  for  it  because  it  re 
minded  me  of  my  home.  I  haven't  seen  any 
flowers  of  that  sort  for  years;  they  were  my 
mother's  favorites.' 

" '  I  hope  you  will  not  press  the  poor  thing 
between  the  leaves  of  your  "  Mathematics,"  un 
less  you  wish  to  dry  it  utterly,'  I  said,  laughing,  to 
hide  the  fact  that  his  last  words  had  touched  me. 


WHITE  LILIES.  91 

"  *  No ;  I  meant  to  put  it  in  a  nice  little  white- 
covered  Bible  my  mother  gave  me.  I  thought 
it  would  be  more  appropriate  to  the  lily — and  to 
you.' 

<s  *  Shall  I  bring  you  some  more  lilies  soon 
from  my  uncle's  garden  ?'  I  asked,  pleased  with 
the  little  compliment,  though  I  had  the  sense  to 
comprehend  that  he  had  not  intended  it  as  such. 

"  <  Thank  you  !  but  do  not  take  that  trouble. 
It  is  not  very  likely  we  shall  meet  again, — soon, 
at  all  events, — for  I  seldom  attend  these  hops  or 
show  myself  in  society.  I  am  not  much  of  a 
ladies'  man,  as  you  may  have  divined.' 

"'But  I  hate  "ladies'  men,"'  I  protested; 
<and  as  for  me,  I  am  only  a  little  girl,  not  a 
young  lady  at  all.  I  wanted  you  to  talk  more 
to  me  about  the  moon  some  time.' 

"  He  smiled,  an  odd,  pleasant  smile.  '  There 
are  plenty  of  fellows  who  will  be  but  too  glad 
to  "  talk  to  you  about  the  moon,"  in  a  far  dif 
ferent  fashion  from  mine,  and,  you  will  think,  a 
much  better  one,'  he  said. 

"And  then  it  was  time  to  bid  each  other 
good-night. 

"In  spite  of  these  rather  coldly  ungracious 
words,  however,  I  did  meet  him  again,  both 


92  WHITE  LILIES. 

soon  and  often ;  at  least,  we  saw  each  other,  but 
he  seldom  or  never  sought  me.  I  often  found 
him  apparently  watching  me  at  guard-mount,  at 
parade,  and  at  the  few  hops  he  attended,  at  all 
of  which  places  I  received  more  attention  than 
was  good  for  me  from  everybody  save  one.  I 
was  piqued,  and  perhaps  a  little  mortified,  but  I 
was  far  too  happy  in  my  gay,  novel  life  to  care 
just  then  more  than  that '  little.' 

"  At  last,  however,  one  night  at  parade,  when 
the  cadets  had  been  in  camp  for  a  week  or  two, 
he  deigned  to  approach  me  (for  so,  half  scorn 
fully,  half  triumphantly,  I  put  it  to  myself),  and 
said,  abruptly,  'Are  you  fond  of  music,  Miss 
Keid?' 

"  When  I  had  returned,  <  More  than  of  any 
thing  else,  as  I  hear  you  are  of  mathematics,'  he 
invited  me  to  remain  and  go  to  band  practice 
with  him  that  evening.  There  was  a  particu 
larly  fine  programme,  he  said,  as  if  he  searched 
for  an  excuse  for  his  invitation. 

"  'After  all,  then,'  I  exclaimed,  mischievously, 
*  you  have  not  entirely  forgotten  that  I  possess 
an  existence,  and  might  have  a  fondness  for  fine 
music.  I  quite  thought  you  had  forgotten  all 
about  me.' 


WHITE  LILIES.  93 

"  '  I  have  been  trying  to  do  so,'  he  answered, 
very  quietly, '  but  have  decided  that  it  is  no  use.' 

"  I  was  electrified,  and  made  no  reply,  so  he 
continued,  <  Five  minutes  ago  even  I  meant  not 

to  ask  you,  but — but  now "Will  you  go 

with  me  ?'  And  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  I 
fancy,  Miles  Hancock  was  visibly  confused. 

"  Well,  I  went  with  him, — perhaps  to  punish 
him,  as  I  said,  for  trying  to  forget  me, — and 
somehow  we  seemed  to  grow  so  thoroughly 
acquainted  that  night  that  afterwards  every 
thing  could  not  help  but  be  different  between 
us.  He  began  to  seek  me  continually,  for  I 
spent  the  greater  part  of  every  day  at  the  Point, 
with  Aunt  Ellen  for  chaperon,  generally  at  first 
half  reluctantly,  as  if  he  fought  against  his  in 
clination,  but  finally  gladly,  eagerly,  as  if  surren 
dering  himself  to  an  influence  sweet  as  it  was 
powerful ;  and  if  I  began  to  care  for  him  then,  I 

had  reason  to  think  he  cared  as  well  for  me. 
****** 

"You  have  heard  of  the  money  my  god 
father  bequeathed  me  when  I  was  a  young  girl, 
have  you  not  ?  "Well,  it  was  during  my  stay  at 
West  Point  that  I  received  tidings  of  his  death, 
and  of  the  unexpected  contents  of  his  will.  I 


94  WHITE  LILIES. 

was  too  wildly  excited  over  my  Cinderella-like 
fortune  to  be  discreetly  reticent,  and  so  the  news 
of  my  heiress-ship  spread  like  wildfire  among 
the  gossips  of  West  Point. 

"  I  was  quite  anxious  to  hear  what  Mr.  Han 
cock  would  say  and  think,  but  suddenly,  with 
out  explanation,  he  began  to  avoid  me  again, 
never  rudely  or  abruptly,  but  nevertheless  his 
avoidance  was  unmistakably  certain.  I  was 
hurt  and  perplexed,  and  when  it  had  gone  on 
for  what  seemed  to  me  .a  very  long  time,  I  found 
myself  heavy  of  heart  and  sad,  for  reasons  I 
dared  not  try  to  read.  At  last  we  came  upon 
each  other  in  the  library  building,  where  I  had 
been  bidden  to  wait  for  Aunt  Ellen. 

" '  Do  you  hate  me  lately  ?'  I  asked,  with  a 
sort  of  shy  audacity,  as  for  an  instant  he  held 
my  hand. 

"  '  Hate  you !  most  certainly  not/  very  gravely. 
6  Is  it  true,  as  I  have  heard,  that  you  have  come 
into  a  fortune,  are  a  great  heiress  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  indeed ;  isn't  it  like  a  fairy  tale  ?  But 
what  has  that  to  do  with  my  question  ?' 

" '  Everything  to  me;  it  has  essentially  changed 
everything  for  me.' 

"'Why?' 


WHITE  LILIES.  95 

"  *  Because  I  had  meant  to  ask  you  to  marry 
me.' 

"  '  And  now  you  will  not,  just  because  of  my 
money  T 

" '  No ;  I  will  not,  I  cannot,'  he  began,  but  I 
interrupted  him,  impetuously,  scarcely  knowing 
what  I  said. 

"  *  Then  /  must  ask  you  to  marry  me  !  Please 
do, — that  is,  if  you  really  still  care  enough  for 
me  to  wish  to !  I  shall  be  so  unhappy  if  you 
don't !'  And  with  tears  and  agonized  blushes  I 

laid  my  hands  on  his. 

****** 

"When  Aunt  Ellen  came  in,  ten  minutes 
later,  I  had  given  him  my  promise,  or  he  had 
given  me  his,  I  scarcely  know  what  to  say  under 
such  confused  circumstances,  but,  at  all  events, 
we  were  engaged.  Miles  would  gladly  have 
told  her  immediately,  but  I  would  not  have  it 
so.  She  would  laugh,  and  call  us  over  young 
and  foolish,  I  knew;  say,  perhaps,  we  had  no 
right  to  engage  ourselves  so,  and  that  I  could 
not  bear.  It  must  remain  a  secret,  all  our  own, 
till  I  went  home  again,  and  then  mamma  must 
be  the  first  to  know. 

"  After  that  there  were  two  weeks  of  happi- 


96  WHITE  LILIES. 

ness  for  us  both,  happiness  far  too  unalloyed  to 
last.  One  evening  there  was  to  be  a  hop  at  the 
hotel.  Miles  and  I  were  speaking  of  it  two 
days  before,  and  he  wished  me  to  promise  not 
to  go,  as  he  didn't  think  he  should  be  able  to 
be  there.  He  expected  to  be  detailed  for  the 
observatory  that  night,  and,  of  course,  I  was 
enough  in  love  to  give  the  required  promise 
willingly. 

" '  But  then  I  sha'n't  see  you  for  two  whole 
days,'  I  objected,  '  as  I  can't  come  up  to  the 
Point  to-morrow,  and  the  day  after,  if  I'm  not 
to  attend  the  hop,  I  suppose  Aunt  Ellen  will  say 
it  isn't  worth  while  for  me  to  come  at  all.' 

"  '  Well,'  he  said, '  I'm  sure  of  you  now,  and 
I  hope  we  shall  have  lots  of  other  days  to  spend 
together  before  you  go  away.' 

"  But  he  was  mistaken. 

"  Aunt  Ellen  had  not  played  chaperon  for  me 
that  day,  and  when  I  reached  home  I  found  her 
with  unexpected  company,  a  Mr.  Thornton, 
from  New  York,  who  had  come  once  or  twice 
before  to  the  house  during  my  visit. 

"'I've  just  been  promising  Mr.  Thornton 
that  you  will  go  with  him  to  the  hop  day  after 
to-morrow,'  she  informed  me ;  '  for  I  have  pre- 


WHITE  LILIES.  97 

vailed  upon  him  to  stay  over  with  us  on  pur 
pose.' 

" '  But — but  I'm  not  going  to  the  hop,'  I 
stammered. 

"  i  Not  going  !    Pray,  why  is  that  ?' 

"  '  Because' — hastily  framing  an  excuse  which 
at  least  was  not  an  untruth — <  I've  just  told  Mr. 
Hancock  I  wouldn't  go;  and  as  he  makes  out 
my  hop  cards,  I  should  get  very  little  chance  to 
dance  if  I  changed  my  mind  now  that  he  doesn't 
expect  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  no  matter  for  that  this  one  time,'  per 
sisted  Aunt  Ellen,  impatiently.  '  You  will  en 
joy  it  well  enough,  I  dare  say,  and  perhaps  Mr. 
Thornton  may  put  down  his  name  in  the  blank 
spaces  on  your  card.' 

" '  With  great  pleasure,'  came  emphatically 
from  Mr.  Thornton. 

"  <  Oh,  but  how  it  would  look  to  Mr.  Hancock 
if  I  should  go  now,  when  I've  just  positively 
announced  that  I  would  not  be  there.  He  will 
think  I  did  it  on  purpose  to  avoid  him,'  I  pro 
tested,  more  warmly  than  prudently. 

" '  Mr.  Hancock  will  probably  not  give  it  a 
thought.  At  all  events,  I  particularly  desire 
you  to  go,  my  dear,'  Aunt  Ellen  said,  decidedly. 
B  g  9 


98  WHITE  LILIES. 

And  she  always  said  i  my  dear'  when  she  was 
growing  a  little  angry,  even  to  her  husband. 
As  for  me,  I  was  quite  a  child  in  her  eyes,  and 
no  doubt  a  troublesome  one. 

"'Well,'  I  said,  'then  I  must  write  him  a 
note  of  explanation.' 

"  '  Write  to  Miles  Hancock !  a  young  man  you 
have  been  slightly  acquainted  with  for  two  months  ! 
I  cannot  possibly  permit  it!'  ejaculated  Aunt 
Ellen,  in  horrified  accents,  which  I  thought  quite 
too  exaggerated,  while  Mr.  Thornton  became 
absorbed  in  gazing  out  of  the  window. 

"  *  I  can't  allow  my  niece's  handwriting  to  be 
in  the  possession  of  any  cadet,  no  matter  how 
nice  he  may  seem  to  be.  How  can  you  tell 
what  use  he  might  make  of  it  ?' 

"This  was  too  ridiculous,  I  thought;  but 
words  were  vain,  and  I  relapsed  into  a  discreet 
though  angry  silence,  being  none  the  less  re 
solved,  since  I  must  go  to  the  hop,  to  write 
Miles  an  explanation.  I  fancied  I  knew  him 
well  enough  to  be  quite  certain  of  his  being 
vexed  and  misunderstanding  me  if  I  did  not, 
especially  as  I  was  to  go  with  Mr.  Thornton, 
who  was  known  at  West  Point  as  being  wealthy 
and  a  grand  parti. 


WHITE  LILIES.  99 

"  I  was  quiet  all  the  evening,  intent  on  laying 
my  little  plot ;  and  very,  very  early  next  morn 
ing,  stealing  down  to  the  deserted  library,  I 
hastily  wrote  two  letters,  one  to  Miles  and  one 
to  your  mother,  Clara  Avery.  The  latter  was 
to  serve  as  a  '  decoy,'  if  necessary. 

"I  had  finished  the  first  and  secreted  it  in 
my  pocket,  and  had  commenced  the  other,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Aunt  Ellen  peeped  in 
suspiciously,  her  hair  still  in  crimping-pins. 

"'I  thought  I  heard  a  noise,  and  fancied  it 
was  you,'  she  said.  '  Surely,  Lilian,  you  are  not 
writing  to  that  cadet  after  all  I  said  to  you  ?' 

"It  seemed  to  me  quite  an  insult  to  Miles 
that  he  should  be  mentioned  as  '  that  cadet,'  and 
with  the  courage  of  anger,  though  my  heart 
throbbed  violently,  I  answered,  stoutly,  'No; 
I'm  not  writing  to  any  cadet,  but  to  Clara 
Avery.' 

"  She  gave  me  a  long,  doubtful  look,  and, 
slowly  turning,  left  the  room. 

"Never  had  I  felt  so  utterly  at  a  loss  for 
something  to  say  in  a  letter  to  Clara.  I  had  no 
reason  for  writing,  and  after  having  set  down 
*  Dear  Clara'  and  the  date,  I  looked  at  the  page 
for  a  long  time  in  despair,  with  my  inky  pen 


100  WHITE  LILIES. 

suspended,  ready  to  dash  down  any  fugitive 
idea  which  might  occur  to  me,  before  I  could 
think  of  a  thing  to  say. 

"  Finally,  I  had  not  succeeded  in  completing 
my  note,  which  seemed  likely  to  be  a  lame 
affair,  when  Uncle  Henry  entered.  As  a  rule, 
he  was  a  particularly  late  riser,  and  so  I  knew 
Aunt  Ellen  must  have  used  cogent  arguments 
to  induce  this  early  appearance  of  his. 

"'Lilian,'  he  said,  very  gravely  (Uncle  Henry 
was  always  grave,  though  kind,  and  he  always 
spoke  directly  to  the  point),  '  will  you  tell  me  to 
whom  is  that  letter  ?' 

" '  To  Mrs.  Avery,'  I  replied,  ostentatiously 
directing  my  envelope,  and  feeling  sadly  con 
scious  of  that  other  in  my  pocket.  But  perhaps 
my  voice  trembled. 

"  '  And  is  that  the  only  one  you  have  written?' 

"How  sick  I  felt  as  I  finished  writing  that 
address  !  For  an  instant  I  did  not  answer,  then 
I  said,  faintly,  'Yes.'  It  was  my  first  false 
hood. 

"  '  You  are  sure  ?     Forgive  me,  Lilian.' 

" '  Yes ;  sure  /'  I  cried,  miserably.  '  What  a — 
what  a  fuss  you  and  Aunt  Ellen  are  making 
about  nothing !  My  head  aches,  Uncle  Henry, 


WHITE  LILIES.  101 

and  I'll  take  my  letter  to'  the;  ]^t- office' 'now,  for 
the  sake  of  the  wal&.beftfre'  bhk'Ufisfer'VM  *:  A 

"He  made  no  comment,  and  I  started  off, 
not  feeling  as  if  Miles's  letter  were  absolutely 
safe  until  I  had  left  it  at  the  Highland  Falls 
post-office,  with  the  assurance  that  it  would 
soon  be  sent  off  to  the  Point. 

"  Uncle  Henry  once  in  a  while  indulged  in  a 
*  constitutional/  as  he  called  it,  before  the  nine 
o'clock  breakfast,  and  I  had  been  relieved  when 
he  had  not  offered  to  join  me  in  my  walk, 
Now,  as  I  was  rapidly  returning  to  the  house,  I 
met  him,  and  he  stopped  me,  with  a  hand  upon 
my  arm. 

"  '  Perhaps  you  will  think  me  over  particular 
in  the  matter  of  this  letter,'  he  said,  kindly, 
4  but  your  aunt  has  been  impressing  it  upon  me 
that  it  is  absolutely  my  duty  to  be  so,  and  you 
know  how  strict  she  is  in  her  ideas  regarding 
propriety.  I  don't  know  but  I  must  agree  with 
her;  and  now,  Lilian,  it  is  not  too  late  yet.  If 
you've  put  a  letter  to  this  cadet  in  the  office,  tell 
me,  and  I  can  go  and  get  it  out  for  you.' 

"I  was  aghast  as  well  as  angry.  I  had 
fancied  my  letter  safe  at  last,  and  now  here  it 
was  in  greater  peril  than  ever,  perhaps.  Again 

9* 


102  WHITE  LILIES. 

I  protested  I  had'"  written  no  such  letter,  but 
wKcn  &e- announced  'hl£  intention  of  proceeding 
to  the  post-office  to  inquire  for  his  own  mail,  I 
offered  to  accompany  him  with  a  fainting  heart. 
To  my  joy  he  stepped  into  a  grocer's  shop  on  the 
way,  and,  framing  some  hasty  excuse,  I  rushed 
out  and  sped  away  to  the  post-office,  where  I 
sought  the  post-master  at  his  little  window. 

"  <  I — did  you  see  me  post  two  letters  here  a 
few  minutes  ago  ?'  I  questioned,  desperately,  all 
the  time  feeling  heartily  angry  with  myself  and 
everybody  else,  even  Miles,  because  of  the  posi 
tion  in  which  circumstances  and  cowardice  had 
placed  me. 

"  *  Yes ;   I  saw  you,  miss,'  was  the  answer. 

"  '  Then,'  stammering  and  blushing  furiously, 
<  if — if  a  gentleman — Mr.  Ferguson,  I  mean, — 
comes  here  and  inquires  or  asks  to  see  them, 
you — you  will  not ' 

" '  Oh,  no,'  he  interrupted,  with  an  intolerably 
airy  patronage  and  a  smile  so  broad  that  his 
cigar  trembled  between  his  teeth.  *1  know 
what  you  mean,  of  course,  miss.  Parents  and 
guardians  often  come  to  us  for  such  things,  but 
we  know  how  to  keep  our  mouths  shut;  our 
memories  are  awful  short  sometimes.' 


WHITE  LILIES,  103 

"I  thanked  him  with  a  doubtful  grace  and 
returned  to  my  uncle  feeling  utterly,  shamefully 
humiliated,  yet  not  wholly  repentant.  They 
had  had  no  right  to  take  me  so  to  task,  I  re 
flected,  and,  after  all,  I  had  done  no  great 
wrong. 

"But  when,  after  breakfast,  the  family  as 
sembled  for  prayers  and  I  knelt  with  the  others, 
I  was  positively  frightened,  so  like  a  Pariah 
did  I  feel.  How  good  they  all  seemed!  and 
they  never  told  lies.  I  had  told  one,  and  I  had 
no  longer  a  place  among  people  who  dared  to 
say  prayers.  Poor  little  wretch  that  I  was !  I 
feel  almost  sorry  for  my  naughty  yet  remorseful 
self  as  I  recall  my  misery.  I  was  very  unhappy 
till  the  night  of  the  hop,  and  then  I  grew  fright 
ened  again.  If  Miles  should  be  there  after  all, 
and  chance  to  mention  my  note  to  Aunt  Ellen, 
what  would  become  of  me  ? 

"We  went  early  to  the  Point, — Aunt  Ellen, 
Mr.  Thornton,  and  I, — for  we  had  been  invited 
to  dine  with  the  family  of  one  of  the  officers, 
and  I  distinguished  myself  at  table  by  starting 
when  I  was  spoken  to,  dropping  my  fork  under 
the  table,  and  even  upsetting  a  glass  of  water 
into  my  neighbor's  plate,  to  such  a  state  of 


104  WHITE  LILIES. 

nervousness  had  I  arrived.  Aunt  Ellen  was 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  me,  I  know. 

"Well,  Miles  was  at  the  hop,  the  night  being 
too  cloudy  for  work  at  the  observatory,  and  in 
a  breath  with  my  first  salutation  I  whispered, 
4  For  pity's  sake,  don't  mention  my  note !'  and 
so  succeeded  finely  in  puzzling  him  and  rousing 
his  curiosity. 

"  It  was  quite  a  relief,  by  and  by,  to  confess 
the  sin  I  had  committed  for  his  sake,  and  to 
pour  into  his  sympathetic  ears  the  history  of  my 
sufferings  and  remorse. 

"  '  Did  he  think  me  frightfully  wicked  ?  Could 
he  ever  love  me  again  after  I  had  told  such  a  lie  ?' 

"  He  managed  to  pour  balm  upon  my  wounds, 
yet  said  that  were  he  in  my  place  he  would  tell 
Aunt  Ellen  all  about  it  now.  I  would  feel 
happier,  and  it  would  be  better  in  every  way. 
A  lie  was  a  bad  thing,  he  said,  and  one  ought  to 
do  all  in  one's  power  to  atone  for  having  told 
one,  even  if  it  had  seemed  excusable  at  the  time. 

"<  You're  not  a  coward,  are  you,  Lilian  ?'  he 
asked,  when  I  demurred;  and  after  that  I  would 
rather  have  died  than  not  have  told  Aunt 
Ellen.  I  did  confess  the  very  next  day,  in  the 
presence  of  Uncle  Henry  (as  an  additional 


WHITE  LILIES.  105 

penance),  and,  alas !  she  was  very  angry.  She 
spoke  of  the  great  responsibility  I  had  been  to 
her,  with  my  *  appearance  and  unfortunate  pas 
sion  for  flirtation,'  as  she  emphatically  expressed 
her  opinion,  arid  my  mother  so  far  away. 

"  '  I  was  frightened  as  soon  as  I  saw  you/  she 
told  me,  '  for  I  had  never  realized  that  I  was  to 
have  a  young  lady  on  my  hands,  and  I  doubted 
I  should  have  trouble  with  you.  Now  it  has 
come.  You  have  chosen  to  deceive  us,  and 
what  you  have  done  once  there  is  no  reason  to 
believe  you  may  not  do  again.  I  don't  dare  to 
keep  you  here  any  longer,  I  tell  you  honestly, 
though  I  don't  wish  to  seem  unkind,  and  I  must 
write  to  your  mother  to  send  for  you  directly. 
It  is  for  her  sake,  as  well  as  for  yours  and  mine, 
that  I  do  it.' 

"  I  was  in  despair  at  this  decision,  though  too 
proud  and  angry  to  remonstrate  or  attempt  to 
defend  myself,  still  less  mention  the  fact  of  my 
engagement  as  excuse  for  what  I  had  done. 

"  So  I  was  sent  home  in  disgrace,  without 
even  the  privilege  of  one  sight  or  word  from 
Miles  Hancock,  for  I  was  not  allowed  to  show 
myself  again  at  the  Point,  so  dangerous  a  person 
did  my  aunt  now  consider  me. 


106  WHITE  LILIES. 

"  When  mamma  had  been  told  of  the  im 
portant  fact  of  my  engagement,  and  had  re 
ceived  a  long  and  (in  my  opinion)  beautiful 
epistle  from  <  my  cadet,'  her  heart  being  much 
softer  than  Aunt  Ellen's,  we  were  allowed  to 
write  to  each  other  sometimes;  and  the  next 
June  after  his  graduation  he  came  and  spent  a 
week  in  the  lovely  new  home  my  '  fortune'  had 
procured  for  us. 

"And  there,  Lilian,  I  will  close  my  little 
story.  That  is  the  way,  isn't  it,  they  do  in  the 
magazines, — leave  the  hero  and  heroine  in  a 
halo  of  happiness  and  indefinitness  ?  Now  you 
have  the  only  romance  in  the  experience  of  this 
sadly  unromantic  person,  and  you  must  remem 
ber  it  is  your  own  fault  if  you  have  been  bored. 
As  for  me,  I  have  talked  myself  into  the 
dreariest  mood  imaginable.  It  always  makes 
me  a  little  sad,  foolishly  so,  to  recall  those  old 
days  at  West  Point."  And  I  sighed  involun 
tarily  as  I  bent  over  Lilian's  flowers. 

"But  surely  that  is  not  the  end,  Cousin 
Lilian?"  cried  the  girl.  "Won't  you  tell  me 

what  came  be but,  oh,  no,  I  ought  not  to 

ask  that." 

"  Oh,  yes;  you  are  at  liberty  to  ask;"  I  tried 


WHITE  LILIES.  107 

to  speak  with  smiling  indifference.  "There 
came  a  quarrel,  and  then  a  separation.  When 
by  a  chance  we  discovered  that  it  had  all  arisen 
through  a  misunderstanding,  a  mistake,  trifling 
enough  if  it  could  have  been  remedied  before  it 
was  too  late,  I  had  already  engaged  myself  to 
another  man.  Of  course  a  promise  of  marriage, 
once  having  been  made,  could  not  be  canceled 
because  I  had  found  out  that  I  needn't  have 
broken  my  engagement  with  some  one  else  be 
forehand  ;  and  so  there  was  the  end  of  it  all. 
A  mere  bagatelle,  of  course,  a  little  dream  of 
one's  first  season,  you  understand,  Lilian  ? 

"Ten  years  ago,  and  I  have  never  seen  or 
scarcely  heard  of  Miles  Hancock  since  !  I  dare 
say  he  is  married,  and  the  happy  father  of  half 
a  dozen  noisy  children,"  and  I  laughed.  "  Now, 
dear,  have  you  not  some  little  confidence  to  give 
me  as  reward  for  my  dull  narration  ?" 

"Just  a  very  little  confidence,  then,  if  you 
care  to  hear,  though  of  course  it  seems  a  great 
deal  to  we,"  Lilian  made  blushing  answer.  "  I  am 
engaged  to  a  cadet !  And  he  is  such  a  dear  boy, 
Cousin  Lilian,— you've  no  idea !  Mamma  doesn't 
know  yet.  I  am  going  to  tell  her  to-night,  and 
you  must  help  me  if  she  scolds,  won't  you  ?" 


108  WHITE  LILIES. 

"Oh,  certainly;  you  will  have  an  advocate 
in  me,"  I  answered,  laughing.  "  May  I  hear 
his  name,  or  is  that  to  be  a  secret  from  me  as 
yet?" 

"First"  (and  I  thought  she  seemed  oddly 
agitated  and  nervous,  as  indeed  she  had  seemed 
during  all  the  progress  of  my  story)  "  I  will 
show  you  his  picture.  I  carry  it — don't  laugh  ! 
— inside  this  novel.  Perhaps — perhaps  you  may 
have  seen  him,  or  some  one  like  him,  before, 
you  know.  Anyway,  I  hope  you'll  think  him 
nice-looking."  And  timidly  yet  eagerly  she 
laid  the  photograph  in  my  hand. 

I  took  it,  and  I  did  not  speak ;  I  could  not. 
The  pictured  face  swam  before  my  eyes,  and  yet 
another,  so  strangely  resembling  it,  seemed  to 
rise  between  me  and  the  paper,  like  the  ghost 
of  other  days.  If  ever  I  had  told  myself  it  was 
forgotten,  I  knew  now  that  I  had  been  de 
ceived. 

"Lilian,"  I  asked,  after  a  pause  which  seemed 
long  to  me,  and  my  voice  sounded  strangely 
in  my  own  ears,  "  how  did  you  get  this  pic 
ture  ?" 

"It  is  the  picture  of  my  cadet!"  she  cried, 
"  and  his  name  is  Ned  Hancock." 


WHITE  LILIES.  109 

When  I  did  not  speak,  she  began  again, 
"  Haven't  you  any  questions  to  ask  me,  Cousin 
Lilian?  Oh,  I  wish  you  would  ask  me  just 
one!"  growing  more  and  more  excited  and 
eager.  "  Ned's  elder  brother,  Captain  Hancock, 
is  named  Miles,  and  they  are  so  much  alike, 
even  yet,  though  the  captain  is  a  very  great  deal 
older.  They  say  at  the  Point  that  Ned  is 
almost  precisely  like  his  brother  in  appearance 
when  he  used  to  be  a  cadet.  And  Captain  Han 
cock  isn't  married,  and  he  hasn't  half  a  dozen 
children!  He's  home  now  on  sick  leave  from 
his  post  in  Montana,  where  he  received  a  dread 
ful  wound  in  a  fight  with  the  horrid  Indians. 
Ned  told  me  all  about  it,  and  he  was  so  brave 
and  grand, — you  have  no  idea !  He  is  stopping 
at  Cozzens's  Hotel  this  week,  for  the  sake  of 
being  with  his  brother  Ned,  and  we  are  great 
friends.  He  is  coming  to  speak  to  mamma 
about  Ned,  day  after  to-morrow,  and  then — 
then,  Cousin  Lilian,  you  and  he  will  meet, — you 
can't  help  yourselves !  It  is  too  romantic  and 
lovely  for  anything !  Now  all  will  be  made  up 
between  you  again,  and  be  just  as  it  used  to  be, 
and  I'll  be  so  happy !" 

"  Hush !"  I  said,  checking  the  girl's  impetu- 
10 


110  WHITE  LILIES 

ously  incoherent  outburst  in  a  tone  that  was 
purposely  cold,  though  I  was  conscious  that  my 
cheeks  were  burning  and  my  eyes  shining  with 
a  long-unkindled  light.  "  That  little  episode  is 
a  thing  entirely  of  the  past.  I  was  very  foolish 
to  repeat  it,  I  fear,  and  certainly  should  not 
have  done  so  could  I  have  dreamed  you  had  any 
connection  with  the  name  of  Hancock.  Captain 
Hancock  and  I — since  that  is  his  title  now,  you 
say — are  as  little  to  each  other  as  if  we  had 
never  met.  You  must " 

"  At  least,"  Lilian  broke  in  again,  reproach 
fully,  "  poor  Captain  Hancock  has  been  and  is 
faithful  to  you,  whatever  you  may  feel  towards 
him,  for  he  has  never  married;  and  I  have 
heard  some  of  the  professors'  wives  talking 
gossip  about  some  *  early  disappointment,'  from 
which  he  has  never  recovered.  I  know  now 
that  that  means  you.  He  is  splendid,  and  I  do 
hope  you  won't  be  so  horribly  cruel  as  to  refuse 
to  meet  him  when  he  comes  to  see  mamma !  If 
you  only  once  meet  him,  Cousin  Lilian,  I  feel 
sure  of  all  the  rest." 

"Lily,  silly  child!"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  smile 
and  a  sigh,  "  don't  you  know  that  flowers  once 
withered  never  more  revive  ?" 


WHITE  LILIES.  Ill 

For  an  instant  she  was  silent.  Then,  with  a 
seeming  irrelevance,  she  cried,  her  voice  trem 
bling  ever  so  little,  "  Oh,  see,  Cousin  Lilian,  my 
lilies  that  had  faded,  how  bright  and  beautiful 
they  are  again !" 

Have  flowers  prophetic  souls  ? 


A  STRANGE  WOUND: 
A  STORY  OF  THE   REBELLION 


10*  113 


A  STRANGE  WOUND! 

A  STORY  OF  THE   REBELLION. 

SOME  years  ago,  when  stationed  in  a  little 
town  in  one  of  our  Western  States  on  college 
duty,  it  was  my  pleasure  and  delight  to  spend 
my  leisure  hours  after  drill  in  the  office  of  a 
local  practitioner,  a  Dr.  Brown  by  name.  He 
had  been  a  surgeon  and  medical  director  of  a 
Western  military  district  during  the  war,  and 
had,  moreover,  a  wide  experience  in  various 
capacities.  Possessed  of  great  conversational 
powers,  a  close  observer  of  men  and  events,  a 
deep  thinker  and  a  great  reader,  his  statements 
of  what  he  had  witnessed  not  only  were  of  great 
interest,  but  remarkable  for  accuracy  and  truth 
as  well  as  detail.  One  day  while  in  his  office 
the  conversation  took  a  professional  turn,  and 
he  spoke  of  strange  accidents  and  wounds,  and 
ended  by  giving  me  the  following  tale,  which 
I  here  relate  in  as  nearly  his  words  as  I  can  now 
recollect. 

"  Well,  lieutenant,  one  of  the  most  remark- 

115 


116  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

able  wounds  I  ever  came  across  was  connected 
with  a  young  fellow  who  belonged  to  this  town. 
It  was  in  1862,  and  I  was  then  attached  as 
surgeon  to  a  regiment  of  Sanborn's  brigade, 
Hamilton's  division,  in  Rosecrans's  Army  of  the 
Mississippi.  All  through  that  summer  and 
early  fall  we  were  pretty  scarce  of  medical 
officers  in  that  army,  and  I  had  plenty  of  work 
to  do,  I  can  assure  you.  In  September  I  was 
appointed  an  assistant  medical  director,  and  had 
my  quarters  on  the  staif  of  General  Hamilton. 
During  the  summer  we  had  not  moved  around 
much,  but  when  the  fall  came,  our  work  com 
menced  in  earnest.  We  were  at  that  time  in 
Northern  Mississippi,  and  Grant,  who  com 
manded  the  "Western  armies  then,  had  an  idea 
of  making  a  forward  movement  just  the  mo 
ment  he  felt  himself  strong  enough.  By  the 
capture  of  Forts  Donelson  and  Henry,  Island 
No.  10,  and  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  he  had  cleared 
not  only  Kentucky  but  all  of  Northern  Missis 
sippi  of  the  Confederates,  and  also  all  of  West 
ern  Tennessee.  But  in  Eastern  Tennessee  Bragg 
had  a  strong  force,  and  threatened  to  start 
northward  and  carry  the  war  to  the  Ohio  bor 
der.  Now,  Grant  thought  that  if  Buell  could 


A  STRANGE   WOUND.  117 

keep  Bragg  in  check  lie — Grant — could  then 
march  southward  and  compel  Bragg  to  either 
retreat  precipitately  or  find  himself  between 
two  large  armies,  and  thus  be  compelled  to  fight 
against  great  odds.  I  have  always  thought  that 
was  a  mistake  of  Grant's,  for  at  that  time  if 
he  had  consolidated  his  forces  he  could  have 
marched  on  Yicksburg  and  Port  Royal,  which 
were  then  without  intrenchments  or  much  de 
fense,  and  have  captured  them  with  ease,  thus 
opening  the  Mississippi  and  saving  the  many 
lives  and  battles  of  the  year  following.  At 
least,  that  is  my  opinion,  but  I  am  only  a  doc 
tor,  and  I  suppose  my  opinion  wouldn't  count 
with  military  men.  The  forces  Grant  had  in 
September  in  his  front  and  opposed  to  him  were 
Earl  Van  Dorn's  army  at  and  around  Vicksburg, 
and  Sterling  Price  in  his  direct  front  in  Central 
Mississippi.  The  two  together  numbered  about 
thirty-four  thousand  men,  while  Grant  had 
nearly  forty  thousand,  but  spread  out  from 
Memphis  in  Tennessee  to  Bolivar  in  Mississippi. 
Now,  when  Bragg  found  Buell  too  strong  to 
pass,  he  could  not  break  away  from  him,  as 
Buell  would  have  kept  on  his  heels,  and  be 
tween  Buell  and  Grant  he  would  have  been 


118  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

crushed.     So  lie  sent  for  Van  Dorn  and  Price  to 
join  him,  and  in  order  to  keep  Grant  away  he 
ordered  them  to  make  a  diversion  in  his  favor 
by  breaking  through  Grant's  lines.     Well,  now, 
lieutenant,  I  am  telling  you  all  this  in  order  that 
you   may  understand  why  the   battle  of  luka 
was  fought,  a  battle  which,  to  my  thinking,  was 
one  of  the  most  important  in  the  war,  though 
the    numbers    engaged     on    either    side    were 
very  small.     You  see  Grant  had  his  principal 
depot  at  Holly  Springs,  and  at  Memphis  was 
Sherman  with  sixteen  thousand  men,  while  Ord 
and  Hurlburt  held  the  rest  of  the  line  with  only 
about  sixteen  thousand  men.     For  a  while  Bose- 
crans  had   about  eighteen  thousand,  since  the 
forces   at   Bolivar  were   put   in   his   command. 
After  Van  Dorn  had  fortified  Vicksburg  some 
what  he  started  to  make  a  break  to  the  north, 
and  his  first  step  was  to  seize  the  depot  at  Holly 
Springs  and  then  appear  to  march  straight  for 
Bragg.     But  he  was  a  sly  old  fellow,  and  instead 
of  marching  at  once  to  join  Bragg  he  and  Price 
agreed  to   form   a  junction   at  luka,  close   to 
Grant's  lines,  then  breaking  through  his  lines, 
to  roll  Grant  back  to  the  Tennessee  and  north 
ward,  and  then  join  Bragg,  by  which  means 


A  STRANGE    WOUND.  119 

they  would  have  been  able  to  whip  Buell,  and 
thus  cause  a  loss  to  the  Union  forces  of  all  of 
Tennessee  and  Kentucky, — an  amount  of  terri 
tory  which  had  taken  our  troops  two  years 
nearly  to  gain.  In  that  case,  also,  Grant  never 
would  have  been  heard  of  as  a  great  general. 
So  you  can  see  the  importance  of  luka.  If 
it  could  be  held  long  enough  for  Grant  to  get 
up  his  forces  there  in  strength,  then  Van  Dorn 
and  Price  would  necessarily  be  compelled  to 
retreat,  and  Bragg  would  not  have  his  expected 
reinforcements.  Grant  penetrated  Van  Dorn's 
plan,  however,  but  only  two  days  before  the 
battle,  and  he  also  sent  forces  to  seize  and  hold 
luka,  so  that  it  virtually  became  a  race  as  to  who 
should  get  there  first.  Van  Dorn  made  it,  and 
at  once  fortified  himself  strongly,  thus  hoping 
to  beat  the  forces  sent  against  him  in  detail. 
He  got  in  September  18,  1862,  and  the  battle 
took  place  the  next  day. 

"Well,  now  that  you  know  pretty  well  the 
situation  of  luka,  I  will  tell  you  my  story.  In 
1859  Jim  and  Tom  Ainsworth,  twin  brothers, 
lived  here.  They  were  a  mighty  handsome 
couple,  both  straight,  tall,  and  well  formed,  and 
having  good,  manly  faces.  Jim  was  dark, — 


120  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

that  is,  lie  had  dark  eyes  and  hair, — while  Tom 
had  blue  eyes  and  hair  a  shade  lighter  than 
Jim's.  They  were  both  of  the  same  height  and 
build,  and  both  were  well  educated  and  full  of 
good  sense.  Well,  you  know  the  widow  living 
over  on  the  corner  of  Third  and  Washington 
Streets.  She  was  Mary  Carter  in  those  days, 
and  as  pretty  a  picture  of  health,  happiness,  and 
good  looks  as  the  sun  looks  upon.  Of  course 
all  the  young  fellows  in  town  were  wild  after 
her,  but  it  was  some  time  before  she  showed  a 
preference  for  the  Ainsworth  boys.  However, 
it  was  a  puzzle  to  know  which  of  the  two  she 
liked  the  best.  If  she  went  with  Jim  one  day, 
the  next  she  was  with  Tom,  and,  notwithstand 
ing  this  shifting,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  the 
slightest  jealousy  between  the  two  brothers. 
Sometimes  all  three  would  come  into  church 
together,  and  after  service  was  over  she  would 
smile  as  much  upon  one  as  the  other  while  she 
walked  home  with  both.  I  used  to  watch  them 
pretty  often,  and,  somehow  or  other,  I  fancied 
it  was  really  Tom  she  liked  the  most,  though 
I  could  not  tell  why,  and  she  must  herself  have 
been  unconscious  of  it. 

"  Things  went  on  that  way  through  the  year, 


A  STRANGE    WOUND.  121 

and  then  came  the  talk  about  Breckinridge, 
Lincoln,  and  Douglas.  The  brothers  were  both 
Southern,  and  of  course  looked  at  matters  from 
a  Southern  point  of  view,  and  they  went  about 
making  speeches  together  arid  helping  along 
each  other  all  they  could.  They  were  both 
smart  lawyers,  and  having  come  from  Tennes 
see,  of  course  had  no  abolition  blood  in  them. 
Well,  fall  came,  and  Lincoln  was  elected;  and 
although  their  party  was  defeated,  they  seemed 
to  stick  closer  to  each  other  than  ever  before,  and 
Mary  Carter  had  not  yet  made  a  choice.  People 
used  to  say  she  would  have  to  marry  them  both. 
But  one  day  in  December  Jim  came  into  my 
office  with  his  handsome  face  all  aglow,  and  a 
happier  and  more  triumphant  light  dancing  out 
of  his  bright  eyes  than  I  ever  saw  before.  I 
knew  something  had  happened,  but  I  was  struck 
all  of  a  heap  when  he  told  me  that  Mary  Carter 
had  promised  to  marry  him;  I  was  so  sure  it 
was  Tom  she  liked  best,  and  I  couldn't  help 
saying,  <  But  Tom — does  he  know  ?'  '  Yes,  poor 
Tom  !  He  says  he  loved  her,  but  I  am  sure  he 
never  loved  her  as  I  do,  and  he'll  get  over  it 
soon.'  After  he  left  I  sat  musing,  and  thinking 
after  all  how  little  we  know  of  a  woman's  ways, 
w  11 


122  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

when  who  should  come  in  but  Tom.  His  face 
was  downcast  and  sad,  but  he  tried  to  cheer  up, 
and  when  I  spoke  to  him  about  the  matter  he 
said,  <  Yes,  I  am  glad  Jim  has  her.  I  thought 
she  liked  me  best,  but  you  see  I  was  mistaken, 
and  I  would  rather  he  had  her  than  any  one 
else.'  I  saw  he  was  hit  hard,  but  was  trying  to 
be  a  man,  and  a  generous  one,  about  it,  and 
somehow  I  couldn't  help  but  think  there  was  a 
mistake  about  it  all. 

"  Well,  for  the  rest  of  that  winter  times  were 
pretty  active  and  full  for  me  in  this  little  town, 
for  there  were  a  good  many  people  here  who 
afterwards  became  red-hot  Copper-heads,  and 
feeling  ran  pretty  high  on  all  sides.  Still, 
though  Mary  and  the  boys  were  of  different 
political  ways  of  thinking,  they  all  got  along 
finely,  and  nothing  seemed  to  mar  their  happi 
ness,  and  the  time  was  set  in  spring  for  Jim's 
marriage. 

"  One  afternoon  late  in  March  the  young 
people  of  the  town  to  the  number  of  a  dozen 
started  down  to  Elliot's  pond  for  the  last  skate 
of  the  season.  I  could  not  go  then,  but  prom 
ised  to  join  them  in  the  evening,  as  it  would 
be  moonlight,  and  they  would,  besides,  light 


A  STRANGE   WOUND.  123 

bonfires  on  the  ice  near  shore.  They  were  to 
stay  out  late.  It  had  been  pretty  warm  during 
the  day  and  the  ice  had  softened  a  good  deal, 
but  towards  nightfall  it  grew  cold  and  froze  up 
tight  again.  I  remember  the  gloriously  beauti 
ful  night  as  though  it  were  yesterday.  The 
moon  at  its  full,  the  snow— what  was  left  of  it — 
crisp  and  sparkling  under  feet,  and  the  sheet  of 
ice  glimmering  on  the  pond  like  a  setting  of 
glass. 

"As  I  sauntered  down  about  eight  o'clock 
towards  the  bridge  at  the  upper  end  of  the  pond 
I  heard  several  screams  and  shouts  for  help  near 
by.  I  rushed  down,  and  there  struggling  to  get 
up  through  the  ice  was  Tom  Ainsworth,  while 
a  rod  or  two  off  was  Mary  Carter  entirely  help 
less.  It  took  me  but  a  moment  to  break  a 
board  off  the  fence  near  by  and  soon  have  the 
fellow  out,  and  as  he  crawled  up  the  bank  Mary 
followed  him,  very  pale  and  trembling  with 
emotion,  and  I  heard  her  say  something  about 
her  darling  and  that  kind  of  stuff,  and  the  next 
moment  they  were  kissing  each  other  for  all 
they  were  worth.  I  was  pretty  much  astonished, 
knowing  she  was  engaged  to  Jim.  I  stopped 
that  scene  by  hurrying  him  off  to  change  his 


124  A  STRANGE   WOUND. 

clothes, — I  hunted  up  Jim  and  put  Mary  in  his 
charge,  and  then  left  without  joining  the  skating 
party,  who  were  all  down  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  pond  a  mile  away. 

"You  see  I  wasn't  mistaken  after  all, — she 
liked  Tom  best;  and  when  she  saw  him,  as  she 
thought,  drowning,  it  came  all  of  a  sudden  to 
her.  In  a  few  days  it  all  came  out.  Tom  was 
willing  to  do  the  honorable  thing  and  go  away, 
but  Mary  took  the  matter  in  her  own  hands, 
telling  Jim  how  she  felt,  and  that  she  never 
could  marry  him, — Jim. 

"  A  week  after  the  news  of  Sumter  came  to 
us,  and  I'll  never  forget  Tom's  anguish  as  he 
came  to  my  room  to  tell  me  the  whole  story.  It 
seems  that  what  Mary  told  Jim  had  changed  his 
entire  nature.  He  cursed  both  Tom  and  Mary, 
told  them  he  would  be  a  living  thorn  in  their 
sides,  threatened  all  sorts  of  things,  and  finally 
ended  by  leaving  town  and  going  South  to  join 
the  Confederate  army.  You  cannot  imagine  his 
rage  unless  you  knew  his  character,  as  I  was  just 
beginning  to  learn  it,  and  he  was  simply  un 
shakable  once  his  mind  was  made  up ;  and  this 
point  you  must  remember  because  of  the  sequel. 

"  Well,  those  two  boys    separated   never  to 


A  STRANGE    WOUND.  125 

meet  again  till  on  the  battle-field  of  luka,  and 
then  under  such  strange  conditions  as  war  alone 
can  bring  out.  Tom  enlisted  and  joined  an 
Ohio  battery,  but  before  going  to  the  front  he 
was  married  to  Mary.  I  soon  joined  the  army 
as  surgeon,  and  went  through  the  fighting  at 
Donelson,  Henry,  Shiloh,  the  marching  and 
work  during  the  summer  of  1862,  and  finally 
found  myself,  as  I  have  told  you,  at  luka. 

"  And  now  to  go  back  to  that  battle-field  where 
the  two  brothers  and  myself  met  again.  "When 
Grant  had  learned  of  Price's  attempt  on  luka, 
he  ordered  Eosecrans  with  his  two  divisions  of 
Hamilton  and  Stanley  to  advance  on  the  town 
by  the  roads  to  the  west  and  south  of  the  town, 
while  Ord  with  nine  thousand  men  was  to  ad 
vance  on  the  north.  As  Rosy  had  in  his  two 
divisions  about  nine  thousand  more,  if  the  whole 
eighteen  thousand  men  could  all  get  there  at 
the  same  time  they  could  easily  hold  the  place 
against  Van  Dorn  and  Price  together  till  Grant 
had  brought  up  his  entire  force,  if  need  be. 

"  luka  is  a  beautiful  village  on  the  hills,  and 
to  its  south  just  outside  the  town  was  the  tri 
angular  plateau  on  which  the  battle  took  place. 
The  base  of  this  triangle  was  north  towards  the 
11* 


126  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

town,  and  the  point  towards  the  south.  The 
base  was  about  a  mile  long,  but  the  point  lopped 
off  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  only. 
Price  had  fully  fourteen  thousand  men  there  on 
the  18th,  and  he  at  once  caused  them  to  throw 
up  intrenchments  on  the  plateau  along  the  base. 
Behind  them  were  thick  woods,  and  their  posi 
tion  was  about  as  strong  as  it  well  could  be. 
Rosecrans  did  not  divide  his  forces  as  he  was 
ordered  to  do,  and  thus  approach  by  two  roads, 
bringing  all  his  men  at  once  on  the  field,  but 
scattered  them  on  one  road,  with  Hamilton's 
division  in  advance.  The  skirmishers  of  this 
division  struck  the  Confederate  pickets  about 
four  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
the  19th,  and  immediately  as  fierce  a  little  fight 
took  place  as  occurred  during  the  entire  war. 
In  fact,  it  is  given  as  a  matter  of  record  that  no 
fight  had  so  great  a  percentage  of  killed  and 
wounded,  for  the  numbers  engaged,  as  did  the 
battery  in  Hamilton's  division.  Look  at  it,  lieu 
tenant,  yourself,  and  you  will  see  as  I  do  that  it 
was  one  of  the  most  important  battles  of  the  war. 
Ord  was  far  away  and  did  not  come  up  till  the 
next  day,  when  the  fight  was  over ;  Grant  knew 
nothing  of  the  battle  till  late  that  night ;  while 


A  STRANGE   WOUND.  127 

Rosy  came  on  the  battle-field  but  a  moment,  and 
then,  not  thinking  it  would  be  much,  went  to 
the  rear  to  hurry  up  Stanley's  troops.  So  Ham 
ilton's  division  had  to  fight  the  battle  alone  with 
but  four  thousand  five  hundred  men.  All  de 
pended  on  them,  and  to  Hamilton  alone  must 
belong  the  entire  credit  of  the  victory.  It  was 
simply  a  question  of  holding  his  place  till  night 
should  put  an  end  to  the  battle,  for  he  knew 
that  if  he  could  do  that,  then  by  morning  light 
there  would  be  more  than  enough  troops  to  take 
care  of  all  the  Johnnies.  If  he  could  not  hold 
his  ground,  then  Price  would  strike  Stanley, 
overthrow  him,  turn  and  beat  Ord,  and  thus 
destroy  Grant's  army  by  detail,  and  all  won  so 
far  during  the  war  by  the  Union  troops  would 
be  lost.  Then,  making  the  junction  with  Van 
Dorn,  the  Confederates  could  have  driven  Buell 
over  the  Ohio  and  destroyed  Grant.  So  it  all 
depended  on  Hamilton  and  his  division,  and 
that  officer  fully  realized  it,  and  he  fought  his 
men  as  few  officers  know  how, — always  in  the 
front,  just  when  and  wherever  needed,  by  his 
personal  example  inspiring  his  men  to  hold  their 
ground.  His  horse  was  killed  under  him,  his 
clothes  perforated  with  bullets,  and  every  officer 


128  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

on  his  staff  and  body-guard  but  two  either  killed 
or  wounded.  But  he  held  his  ground  for  the 
three  hours  of  light  remaining,  and  at  dark,  un 
able  to  overcome  him,  the  Confederates  with 
drew,  knowing  that  the  next  morning  Ord  and 
Rosecrans  with  the  rest  of  the  troops  would 
be  up. 

"  It  was  a  bloody  battle,  for  we  lost  over  two 
hundred  and  seventy  killed  and  nearly  six  hun 
dred  wounded  out  of  the  four  thousand  five  hun 
dred  men  engaged,  while  the  rebs  lost  almost 
double  that  out  of  fourteen  thousand  men  en 
gaged.  The  key-point  of  the  battle  was  the 
ground  held  by  the  Ohio  battery,  in  which  Tom 
Ains worth  was  now  a  sergeant.  It  played  the 
very  devil  among  the  rebs,  and  they  determined 
to  have  it.  So  twice  they  charged  it,  but  both 
times  were  driven  off.  Again  they  formed 
columns  of  attack  to  storm  it,  and  this  time 
they  came  on  so  there  was  no  stopping  them. 
The  battery  did  splendid  work  just  then.  The 
guns  seemed  alive,  so  rapidly  did  they  spit  out 
their  showers  of  grape  and  canister  that  tore 
great  lanes  through  the  approaching  masses.  I 
happened  to  be  near  the  battery  at  that  time  and 
saw  Tom  dismounted,  himself  aiming  and  firing 


A  STRANGE   WOUND.  129 

his  gun;  and,  looking  over  to  the  rebs,  who 
should  be  leading  the  foremost  company  of  at 
tack  but  his  brother  Jim  !  The  very  demon  was 
in  Jim's  eyes  as  he  recognized  Tom,  and  his  face 
lighted  up  with  a  terrible  expression  of  hate,  and 
he  began,  even  in  that  noise  and  turmoil,  to 
curse  him,  when  his  voice  was  drowned  in  an 
explosion.  Tom  had  pulled  his  lanyard,  the  last 
shot  fired  by  the  battery,  and  a  shower  of  grape 
went  right  at  Jim's  company,  which  laid  out  Jim 
and  half  his  men.  But  notwithstanding,  the 
battery  was  taken,  but  soon  lost,  again  taken, 
and  at  last  abandoned  to  our  men  at  night-fall. 

"  Well,  that  is  all  about  the  tight.  Hamilton, 
I  think,  is  the  man  to  whom  all  the  credit  is  due, 
as  Eosecrans  was  nowhere  about.  That  night 
the  rebs  left  in  such  a  hurry  that  we  had  to  bury 
their  dead  and  take  care  of  their  wounded.  I 
had  my  hands  full,  for  I  was  short  of  assistants. 
I  had  ordered  a  house  in  town  seized  and  turned 
into  a  hospital.  It  had  belonged  to  a  Confeder 
ate  general  officer,  and  was  one  of  the  largest 
and  finest  houses  in  the  village,  and  surrounded 
by  a  beautiful  shaded  lawn.  When  the  house 
was  filled  with  wounded,  and  there  were  still 
many  more  coming,  I  directed  a  number  to  be 


130  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

placed  outside  on  the  lawn  under  the  shade  of 
trees.  As  there  they  had  plenty  of  fresh  air, 
not  cold  at  that  time  of  the  year,  they  were 
really  as  comfortable  as  in  the  house. 

"  Towards  evening  of  the  second  day  after  the 
battle  I  got  my  first  chance  for  a  little  rest,  and, 
taking  my  pipe  and  a  camp-stool,  I  went  out  on 
the  lawn  to  have  a  quiet  smoke.  I  sat  down  as 
far  from  the  groups  of  wounded  as  I  well  could, 
though  they  were  so  many  that  was  not  saying 
much.  At  my  feet  a  little  way  from  me  was  the 
apparently  lifeless  body  of  a  Confederate  who 
had  been  brought  in  severely  wounded,  but  had 
died,  as  was  supposed,  before  the  surgeons  could 
get  around  to  him,  and  the  burial-parties  were 
still  busy  with  our  own  men.  Part  of  his  skull 
had  been  torn  off  by  a  piece  of  grape-shot  or  a 
shell,  and  the  brain  or  part  of  it  was  protruding 
in  a  bulbous  balloon-shaped  mass,  confined,  it 
seemed,  by  a  thin  tissue.  Although  covered 
with  blood  and  dirt,  there  was  something  about 
him  that  struck  my  attention,  and,  bending  over 
him,  I  discovered  it  was  poor  Jim  Ainsvvorth. 
At  first  I  was  glad  that  he  was  clone  for,  for  I 
knew  he  must  have  been  instantly  killed,  and 
Tom  and  his  wife  could  henceforth  live  in  peace. 


A  STRANGE    WOUND.  131 

But  even  while  looking  at  him,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  there  was  the  very  slightest  respiration,  and 
to  my  surprise  I  found  on  examination  that  there 
was.  <  Impossible,'  I  said  to  myself,  and  I  knelt 
down  to  watch  the  closer.  A  man  with  the  top 
of  his  head  blown  off,  the  brain  protruding,  left 
in  the  open  air  for  forty-eight  hours  without  at 
tention, — why,  such  a  thing  was  never  heard  of. 
But  my  senses  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding, 
this  man  was  actually  still  alive.  I  took  out  my 
watch  and  counted  the  respirations,  and  then  set 
about  to  help  him  what  little  I  could,  for  I  felt 
certain  he  would  die  very  soon.  So,  as  death 
was  certain,  I  took  from  my  pocket-case  of  in 
struments  a  small  sharp  knife  and  sliced  off  the 
protruding  part  of  the  brain,  and  then  plastered 
the  skin  over  the  hole  in  the  skull  as  well  as  I 
could.  But  he  still  continued  to  live  even  after 
that,  and  so  I  injected  into  him  stimulants ;  and 
to  my  great  astonishment  the  number  of  respira 
tions  soon  increased  and  seemed  stronger. 

"  Here  was  a  case  to  delight  any  professional 
man,  and  perhaps  I  might  be  able  to  keep  life  in 
him  for  a  long  enough  time  for  his  people  to 
come  to  him.  I  sent  for  Tom,  and  he  came  the 
next  day.  To  my  unbounded  delight,  after  set- 


132  A  STRANGE   WOUND. 

ting  up  a  tent  over  the  patient  and  injecting 
nourishment  into  him,  he  seemed  to  grow 
stronger,  and  the  idea  occurred  to  me  that  he 
might  live.  From  that  time  the  attention  of  all 
the  surgeons  was  placed  on  Jim,  and  with  every 
care  and  Tom  as  a  nurse,  to  make  a  long  story 
short,  he  did  pull  through,  though  it  took  some 
months  to  do  it.  Tom  could  only  stay  for  two 
weeks,  but  he  knew  Jim  would  live  before  the 
end  of  his  furlough. 

"  I  went  back  to  Memphis  that  fall,  and  had 
Jim  brought  there  and  put  under  my  especial 
care  in  one  of  our  hospitals.  Tom  joined  his 
battery,  and  it  was  not  long  ere  I  heard  of  his 
promotion.  Poor  fellow,  he  was  killed  at  Vicks- 
burg  the  next  year,  and  Mary  was  left  a  widow 
with  one  little  child. 

"Now  for  the  curious  part  of  the  story.  I 
thought,  of  course,  that  as  Jim  recovered  he 
would  at  least  remain  an  idiot  for  the  rest  of  his 
life,  and  certainly  would  remember  no  one  nor 
any  of  his  past  life.  Not  much.  He  not  only 
knew  me,  but  his  mind  seemed  as  bright  and 
clear  as  formerly,  except  on  one  point  alone. 
He  asked  after  Tom  and  Mary  and  the  old  ac 
quaintances  up  here;  he  talked  of  the  war,  of 


A  STRANGE    WOUND.  133 

old  times;  he  cursed  the  Union  cause  till  I 
ordered  him  to  be  quiet  while  in  a  Union  hospi 
tal  and  living  at  the  expense  of  the  Government 
arid  men  who  had  saved  his  life.  But  in  all  his 
talk  of  Tom  and  Mary  there  was  never  the 
slightest  malice  or  bitterness,  or  reference  to  the 

O  ' 

old  feud  and  trouble.  At  first  I  thought  he 
wished  to  avoid  the  subject,  but  I  soon  became 
convinced  it  was  actually  not  in  his  head,  and 
therefore,  speaking  of  it  myself  to  him,  I  be 
came  convinced  it  was  all  a  blank  to  him.  In 
other  words,  what  had  been  the  most  exciting 
topic  of  his  life  was  now  a  perfect  blank.  If 
you  ask  me  how  I  account  for  it,  I  tell  you  I 
cannot.  Men  have  often  lived  days,  even  years, 
with  bullets  and  pieces  of  metal  in  their  brains, 
but  I  never  heard  of  a  case  where  a  man  lived 
with  part  of  his  brain  cut  or  blown  away.  But 
he  did,  and  whether  or  not  that  part  of  the  brain 
that  I  sliced  off  contained  the  memory  of  his 
love  and  hate  for  Mary  and  Tom  is  a  mystery  to 
me.  In  every  other  respect  he  was  himself,  and 
the  next  spring,  when  he  was  exchanged  with  a 
number  of  prisoners,  he  went  off  cursing  the 
Union  cause  and  with  no  thanks  for  the  men 
who  had  saved  him,  but  with  loving  messages 
12 


134  A  STRANGE    WOUND. 

for  Tom  and  Mary.  He  never  saw  Tom,  but 
was  killed  towards  the  close  of  the  war  in  a 
little  skirmish  by  a  bullet,  this  time  in  the  brain 
that  was  left  him.  He  had  then  attained  the 
rank  of  colonel. 

"Yes,  lieutenant,  I've  seen  many  strange 
wounds,  but,  take  it  all  in  all,  that  one  reached 
the  top  notch  of  them  all.  I've  often  wished  he 
might  have  lived,  as  then  he  might  have  taken 
poor  Tom's  place,  though  that  is  doubtful,  as 
Mary  Ainsworth  has  had  many  offers  since  then, 
but  has  always  remained  faithful  to  Tom's  mem 
ory.  If  this  was  a  story  from  a  novel,  and  not 
a  true  tale,  he  would  have  lived  and  married 
Mary." 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 


135 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

"FouR  cards,  Doc?  Yon  are  playing  rather 
a  reckless  game  to-night.  Better  pull  out  and 
lose  a  little  than  risk  all  you've  got  on  a  single 
card.  Nearly  a  thousand  in  that  pot,  though, — 
don't  hlame  you  much  for  staying.  Lord,  you've 
got  a  nerve !" 

As  the  cards  fell,  Paul  Durmier  turned  the 
corners  up  stealthily,  sheltering  them  with  his 
hand  from  the  eyes  of  the  other  players.  A 
king — another — an  ace — a  king.  When  a  man's1 
last  dollar  is  in  the  banker's  pocket,  and  his  last 
chip  in  the  jack-pot,  such  a  draw  is  providential. 
The  hand  stood  three  kings  and  two  aces.  He 
was  too  skillful  a  gambler  to  allow  the  fire  of 
joy  which  had  sprung  up  in  his  heart  to  warm 
the  lines  of  his  countenance. 

"  Steady,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  quietly ;  "  I 
think  we'll  fatten  that  a  little  before  proceeding. 
There's  my  check  for  five  hundred  dollars.  No 
doubt  you'll  all  come  right  in."  Then,  softly  to 
himself,  he  added,  "  I  don't  bet  with  Government 

12*  137 


138  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

money  except  on  a  sure  thing.  When  a  king 
full  is  not  good,  I'll  go  bankrupt." 

There  was  a  stir  among  the  players,  and  some 
one  grumbled  about  "  bluffing."  Four  of  them 
laid  down  their  hands,  shook  their  heads,  and 
looked  at  one  another.  A  gentleman  in  black, 
sitting  opposite,  turned  his  cards  cautiously, 
faced  them  on  the  table,  drew  forth  a  check 
book  and  wrote.  His  heavy  brows  covered  the 
twinkle  in  his  little  beady  eyes,  and  a  furtive 
smile  played  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  under 
the  seclusion  of  his  waxed  moustache. 

"  I'll  see  that  five  and  raise  it  five,  Dr.  Dur- 
mier,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  The  gentlemen  know 
that  my  check  on  the  Bank  of  California  is 
worth  what  it  is  written  for." 

Four  deep  breaths  issued  from  the  lungs  of 
the  vanquished  players.  They  tipped  back  their 
chairs  and  looked  at  one  another  aghast,  as  if 
they  had  just  seen  a  man  fall  from  the  roof  of  a 
building.  Such  wagers  were  not  ordinarily  laid 
in  the  quiet  rooms  of  the  Bavarian  Club.  It  was 
against  the  rules ;  it  was  contrary  to  precedent. 
They  watched  the  Doctor  write  the  duplicate 
of  his  former  check, — five  hundred  dollars  on 
the  Pacific  National.  The  issue  was  reached. 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  139 

"Anything  to  please  you,  Mr.  Jerome.  I'll 
risk  that  to  look  at  your  hand."  The  players 
bent  forward  eagerly.  The  gentleman  with  the 
waxed  moustache  turned  his  cards  carefully  and 
spread  them  out  in  plain  view. 

Four  queens  and  an  ace ! 

Dr.  Durmier  rose  to  his  feet,  leaned  upon  the 
table,  and  stared  at  them  wildly.  There  was  no 
doubt.  He  had  gambled  away  a  thousand  dollars 
of  the  public  funds. 

It  was  a  climax  that  others  had  reached  before, 
but  never  so  quickly.  It  usually  takes  months 
to  pile  up  a  deficit  of  a  thousand  dollars.  He 
had  accomplished  the  feat  in  less  than  ten  min 
utes,-—  surely  a  damnable  distinction.  Keeling 
through  the  open  door,  he  staggered  down  the 
stairway  to  the  coat-room,  stubbornly  striving  to 
appear  indifferent.  Some  one  led  him  to  the  bar 
and  placed  a  glass  of  whisky  in  his  hand. 

"Drink  that,  old  man;  you  need  a  bracer," 
urged  the  Samaritan. 

He  pushed  it  nervously  away.  "N"o,  no;  I 
am  only  tired  of  playing.  The  boat  leaves  in 
half  an  hour, — good-by !"  Rushing  down  the 
stairway,  he  pushed  open  the  heavy  doors  fiercely 
and  disappeared. 


140  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

Half  an  hour  later,  just  as  the  whistle  of  the 
little  steamer  was  blowing  for  the  midnight  trip 
around  the  harbor,  he  staggered  down  the  gang 
plank. 

****** 

Later  still  he  stood  behind  the  granite  battle 
ment  that  crowns  the  citadel  of  Alcatraz,  and 
looked  out  over  the  dark  still  waters  of  the  bay. 
The  footsteps  of  the  sentinels  were  stifled  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night;  the  last  belated  tug  had 
sought  the  wharf;  the  last  glimmering  light  of 
the  city  had  faded  in  the  mist  that  overhung 
the  lower  bay.  The  strong  rays  from  Alcatraz 
light-house,  sweeping  out  through  the  Golden 
Gate,  mingled  with  the  darting  flashes  from  Fort 
Point  and  Bonita,  and  hurried  on  to  warn  the 
sleepy  midnight  watch  of  the  narrowing,  cliff- 
bound  straits.  Nature  slept,  and  softly  breathed 
amid  the  monotonous  rushes  of  the  surf  against 
the  feet  of  the  rocks. 

Far  down  below  him  the  lighter  objects  of  the 
Island  peered  upward  like  spectres  out  of  the 
darkness, — the  winding  road  descending  to  the 
dock,  the  stone  tennis*  court,  the  white  walls  of 
the  light-house,  the  bronze  figures  of  the  field- 
guns.  By  a  side  glance  he  could  detect  the  out- 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  141 

lines  of  the  flower-beds,  with  the  gravel  walks 
between,  and  their  heavy  border  of  solid  shot. 
He  could  see  the  bells  of  the  calla  lilies,  the 
voluptuous  velvet  of  the  Jacque  roses,  and  the 
hanging  jewels  of  the  century  plant  rising  in 
the  centre  of  the  garden. 

Never  before,  even  in  the  summer  twilight, 
when  every  object  in  nature  forces  itself  on  the 
eye  more  vividly  than  the  central  figure  in  a 
painting, — never  before  had  the  homely  images 
of  the  Rock  impressed  themselves  so  sharply 
upon  his  mind.  His  eye  flitted  restlessly  from  one 
object  to  another,  seeking  one  whose  diffidence 
forbade  its  intrusion  on  his  self-sought  solitude. 

There  was  the  little  adjutant's  office  perching 
like  a  martin's  nest  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  with 
the  tall  light-house  standing  over  it  like  an  Arab 
sentinel  clad  in  white.  Lower  down  the  wind 
ing  road,  like  a  trio  of  mastiffs  sleeping  with 
one  eye  open,  reposed  the  commanding  officer's 
quarters,  with  its  two  flanking  companions,  the 
captains'  quarters.  Still  lower,  on  the  first  ter 
race,  rose  the  great  gray  hospital ;  and  below  it 
the  rambling  masses  of  the  prison  buildings 
were  lost  in  the  vague  shadows  that  encircled 
the  water's  edge. 


142  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

The  peace  that  dwelt  upon  the  face  of  slum 
bering  nature  contrasted  painfully  with  the  tem 
pest  of  emotions  that  swelled  the  heart  of  Paul 
Durmier.  Anguish,  regret,  unspeakable  dread, 
lashed  the  rock  of  reason  like  angry  waters.  In 
the  sparkling  dome  above  him  seemed  to  swing 
the  arms  of  a  great  balance— to  be  or  not  to 
be.  Here  in  the  open  night  might  Fate  cast  the 
final  atom  which  would  launch  him  forward  to 
the  unexplored  beyond. 

Such  heart  strains  and  such  perplexity  could 
not  be  borne  long.  There  was  a  pain  at  his 
heart.  Shadowy  images  were  floating  before 
his  eyes,  and  a  dullness  filled  his  brain  and 
seemed  to  crush  his  senses.  Other  men  had 
done  this  thing,  and  naught  could  spare  them. 
They  fled  to  other  countries,  dishonored,  ruined. 
It  would  be  better  to  die  than  endure  dishonor. 
The  Government  trusts  no  one,  yet  it  crushes 
whom  it  cannot  trust.  The  thought  turned  his 
brain  to  fire. 

Then  the  dear  wife — the  little  boy.  They  must 
not  know;  they  could  never  bear  his  guilt. 
When  life  is  dishonor,  death  is — but  reason 
stops  at  the  bounds  of  life.  IsTo  one  can  tell  of 
the  life  whose  birth  is  death.  The  pain  that 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  143 

galls  eternal  dissolution  would  be  rest  compared 
with  the  agony  of  living  shame.  The  dread  of 
the  hereafter  is  not  more  terrible  than  the  dread 
of  existence  cursed  by  the  scorn  of  men. 

But  there  was  hope.  If  by  any  possibility 
the  soul  should  not  be  immortal,  the  end  of  all 
things  is  in  death,  Life  and  honor  might  be 
made  to  terminate  in  the  same  breath.  Immor 
tality  might  be  only  a  fiction — a  mere  philoso 
pher's  fancy.  There  was  hope  in  the  thought. 

He  turned  and  straightened,  questioning  the 
horizon  with  his  sharp  eyes.  Only  the  dark 
ness  answered.  Shapeless  masses  of  shadow 
slumbered  under  the  dark  outline  of  Tamalpais. 
The  demon  eyes  of  the  Golden  Gate  gleamed 
with  a  melancholy  radiance.  Nature  turned 
her  face  from  the  guilt  that  blackened  his 
soul. 

With  noiseless  steps  he  returned  along  the 
plank  walk  of  the  sentry's  gallery,  passing  down 
the  iron  stairway  and  through  the  western  bar 
bican.  Choosing  the  stone  pavement,  so  that 
his  footsteps  would  not  grate  upon  the  gravel, 
he  stole  silently  down  towards  his  office.  There 
were  some  minor  official  matters  that  would 
need  attention.  As  he  paused  at  the  head  of 


144  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

the  stone  stairway  which  descended  to  the  first 
terrace,  he  glanced  upward  and  saw  the  portly 
light-house  keeper  trimming  the  lamps  in  the 
lens  gallery.  It  was  the  end  of  the  midnight 
watch.  He  crept  on  to  the  office  and  turned  up 
the  lamp  at  his  desk.  The  attendant  sleeping 
in  the  adjoining  room  would  not  wake  before 
reveille  for  anything  less  than  an  earthquake. 
Rapidly  he  turned  over  his  papers,  balanced  his 
accounts,  signed  checks  for  the  cash  in  bank, 
and  closed  the  books.  When  all  was  complete 
he  gathered  them  together  and  fastened  them 
with  a  rubber  band.  That  closed  his  business 
with  the  Government,  his  erstwhile  friend,  his 
present  enemy. 

Dipping  his  pen,  he  again  wrote  upon  a  slip 
of  paper,  "Take  care  of  little  Walley,"  and 
pinned  a  check  to  it.  Mechanically  his  hand 
began  to  trace  characters  upon  the  tablet  before 
him.  "  To  die  is  the  end  of  all.  It  blots  out 
existence.  The  elements  of  life  return  to  earth. 
Death  is  the  end  of  growth— it  is  the  end  of 
life — there  is  nothing  more." 

The  sentinel's  cry  at  the  prison  bridge  warned 
him  of  the  passing  hours.  Already  it  was 
morning.  He  arranged  the  papers  on  the  table, 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  145 

threw  the  scribblings  into  the  waste-basket,  and 
turned  down  the  lamp.  The  glow  of  morn  was 
rising  over  Mount  Diablo.  He  ascended  the 
carriage  road  and  climbed  the  stone  stair 
way. 

Entering  the  door  of  the  bastion  over  which 
the  flag  waves,  in  the  first  room  he  came  upon 
his  study  desk,  and  on  it  the  scattered  manu 
script  of  his  book.  How  long,  how  earnestly, 
he  had  labored  for  its  completion,  trying  to  stifle 
the  gaming  passion  under  the  strain  of  mental 
effort!  He  had  worked  until  his  head  was 
filled  with  pains,  and  fiery  images  floated  before 
his  eyes.  Thank  God,  now  that  it  was  finished 
it  was  a  work  to  be  proud  of.  He  sat  down, 
and  on  the  first  page  of  the  manuscript  wrote, 
"  This  is  for  Walley." 

There  was  light  enough  now  to  render  objects 
in  the  room  visible,  so  he  turned  out  the  lamp. 
Up-stairs  his  wife  might  be  awake.  In  order 
that  he  might  not  disturb  her,  he  removed  his 
shoes.  Every  dainty  object  in  the  room  made 
him  think  tenderly  of  her, — the  silken  cigar- 
case,  the  embroidered  slipper-holder,  the  pic 
tures  hanging  upon  the  wall.  Poor  little  woman, 
how  unworthy  he  felt  now  of  her  pure  love. 
G  k  13 


146  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

The  evil  passion  which  had  blighted  his  life 
showed  only  more  blackly  by  contrast  with  her 
wifely  devotion. 

It  was  time  to  arouse :  the  morning  was  fast 
breaking — in  the  basement  the  Chinese  servant 
was  kindling  the  fires. 

His  hunting-coat  hung  in  the  closet.  Hesi 
tatingly,  cautiously,  he  drew  from  the  pocket  a 
loaded  shell.  Would  he  take  another?  No; 
the  thought  was  cruel.  But  death  is  the  end  of 
all,  and  to  die  in  youth  and  happiness  is  better 
than  to  live  and  drink  the  bitter  cup  of  dis 
honored  widowhood.  He  took  another  shell, 
opened  the  breech  of  the  gun,  and  inserted  it  in 
the  barrel.  Farewell  home  and  the  happy  days 
and  the  friends  that  come  and  go.  Farewell 
life  that  is  not  so  lovely,  after  all. 

He  threw  off  his  coat  and  vest  and  with  cat 
like  tread  ascended  the  stairs.  In  the  first  room 
was  the  baby  sleeping  in  his  crib.  Poor  little 
fellow!  He  would  never  know,  and  he  would 
not  be  happier  if  he  did.  He  bent  and  kissed 
the  curly  brow.  The  door  of  his  wife's  room 
stood  ajar.  He  entered  and  closed  it  softly. 
She  lay  there  smiling  in  her  sleep,  her  arms 
above  her  head,  the  light  of  the  morning  sun 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  147 

wreathing  her  in  its  warm  embrace.  How  pure, 
how  womanly  she  looked !  Oh,  what  cruel  fate 
should  doom  a  holy  life  to  end  so  rudely !  He 
threw  back  the  covering.  She  did  not  move. 
The  abdomen  was  sudden,  fatal,  and  accessible. 
He  reached  over  the  foot-board  and  placed  the 
muzzle  of  the  gun  within  an  inch  of  her  cloth 
ing.  Would  not  the  officer  in  the  adjoining 
room  hear  the  report  ?  No :  he  had  passed  the 
night  at  the  Presidio.  He  pulled  the  trigger. 
Only  a  tremor  passed  over  the  slender  form. 
The  peaceful  smile  was  fixed  immovably.  The 
room  was  filling  with  smoke,  for  the  sheets  had 
caught  fire  from  the  flame  of  the  discharge. 
Reaching  over,  with  his  hands  he  crushed  the 
fire  from  the  blazing  cloth.  How  fortunate  it  is 
that  instant  death  prevents  the  flow  of  blood ! 

Now  his  turn  had  come,  and  he  welcomed 
it.  He  drew  forth  the  empty  shell,  inserted 
the  second  charge,  and  cocked  the  hammer. 
"Which  was  the  easiest  way?  How  would  he 
manage?  Easily  enough.  He  inclined  the 
muzzle  towards  him  and  pressed  his  body 
against  it.  Then  balancing  himself  upon  one 
foot  he  reached  forward  with  the  toe  of  the 
other  and  touched  ^a  trigger.  A  report — a 


148  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

cloud  of  smoke — a  heavy  fall — and  the  shadow 
of  a  great  doubt  was  made  a  lucid  certainty. 

Ah  Wong  was  waiting  in  the  basement  below 
in  great  desperation.  The  breakfast  would  keep 
no  longer.  Surely  his  master  and  mistress  had 
been  keeping  late  hours.  They  did  not  usually 
slumber  until  ten  o'clock.  He  would  steal  softly 
up  the  stairway  and  see  if  they  were  yet  awake. 
Perhaps  they  were  dressing, — he  would  not  show 
impatience  by  calling  them.  On  the  way  he  met 
the  fat  light-house  keeper  standing  in  the  open 
doorway  holding  a  basket. 

"  How  do !  What  you  catchee  ?"  asked  Wong 
in  his  usual  monotone. 

"  Some  eggs  for  your  mistress.  What !  Not 
up  yet?" 

"  No,  cap.     Me  call  'em  now." 

The  light-keeper  waddled  back  to  the  light 
house,  and  Wong  continued  his  ascent.  He 
opened  the  door  of  the  baby's  room  and  peered 
in  cautiously.  Walley  was  crowing  and  kicking 
his  heels  in  the  air.  Wong  stole  over  to  the 
crib  and  tickled  him. 

"  What's  mattah  ?  You  no  get  hungry  yet  ?" 
he  asked. 

He  rapped  at  the  door  of  the  adjoining  room. 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  149 

No  answer.  He  rapped  again  quite  loud. 
Were  they  ill  ?  Perhaps  they  had  remained  in 
the  city  the  night  before.  He  turned  the  knob 
and  softly  pushed  the  door  ajar.  What  a  queer 
smell !  He  poked  his  little  shaven  head  through, 
and  started  back  as  if  struck  by  an  unseen  hand. 

Down  the  stairs  he  flew,  leaving  his  wooden 
shoes  tumbling  along  behind  him ;  then  running 
barefooted  into  the  adjoining  quarters  he  be 
sought  a  lieutenant  in  terror-stricken  tones  to 
come  quickly. 

"  Plenty  devils, — him  very  sick  on  floor !"  he 
cried,  pointing  upward. 

Other  officers  joined  the  lieutenant,  and  to 
gether  they  ascended  the  stairs.  An  odor  of 
burned  powder  pervaded  the  air.  They  pushed 
open  the  door  and  saw — that  the  army  would 
have  a  promotion  and  a  double  funeral.  Both 
bodies  were  cold  and  stiff. 

On  the  floor  lay  the  young  surgeon,  the  blood 
slowly  oozing  from  an  ugly,  blackened  wound. 
At  his  feet  the  double-barreled  shot-gun,  falling, 
had  jarred  open  at  the  breech.  An  empty  shell 
was  in  the  gun,  another  on  the  floor.  On  the 
bed  lay  the  white  form  of  the  girl  wife,  her  arms 
above  her  head,  resting  on  the  dark  masses  of 
13* 


150  THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ. 

her  hair.  It  was  as  if  she  slept  and  was  smiling 
in  her  sleep.  They  threw  sheets  over  the  bodies 
and  drew  painfully  away.  Before  any  friendly 
hand  could  interpose,  the  civil  law  relating  to 
sudden  death  must  be  complied  with. 

Sorrow  came  and  dwelt  upon  the  summit  of 
the  Rock.  The  wise  coroners  appeared,  and, 
shaking  their  heads,  said,  solemnly,  "  Murder 
and  suicide  during  an  attack  of  temporary  in 
sanity."  Insanity  has  always  played  second  to 
murder. 

When  friends  came  to  lay  their  last  offering 
of  flowers,  they  found  the  two  lying  side  by  side 
in  the  little  parlor  under  the  flag.  Choking 
down  a  sob,  they  looked  into  the  white  faces 
and  said,  "  Who  would  have  thought — so  young 
— poor  things." 

They  made  a  single  grave  under  the  cypress- 
trees  in  the  great  cemetery  back  of  the  Presidio, 
and  there  one  sunny  morning  the  little  steamer 
bore  them,  still  lying  side  by  side,  on  its  deck. 
There  was  a  procession  that  followed  slowly  up 
the  hill,  there  were  many  mourners,  there  were 
prayers  that  were  thoughtful  and  sincere,  and 
tears  fell  to  the  earth  that  day  which  were  tender 
and  full  of  love.  The  words  of  the  minister 


THE  STORY  OF  ALCATRAZ.  151 

were  comforting,  for  no  one  knew  but  the  coro 
ner  was  right,  and  no  one  thought  of  the  deadly 
purpose  which  commits  a  crime. 

The  dwellers  on  the  Eock  to-day  show  you  a 
vacant  bastion  that  was  long  since  abandoned  to 
the  bats  and  evil  spirits.  Some  say  that  at  mid 
night  you  can  see  lights  flitting  past  the  windows. 
But  only  one  will  offer  to  tell  you  the  story  of 
the  bloody  deed  committed  there,  and  that  is  the 
portly  light-house  keeper.  He  dwells  with  pride 
upon  each  detail,  and  claims  the  honor  of  being 
first  to  view  the  dead,  and  to  convey  the  news 
of  the  fearful  event  to  the  daily  newspapers. 
Yet  even  he,  when  he  reads  this  narrative,  may 
learn  that  coroners  can  err,  and  insanity  be  not 
always  connected  with  murder. 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW 


153 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

OUR  nearest  neighbor  was  Mr.  John  Deve- 
reux,  of  Coramballa  Station,  seventy-eight  miles 
away, — tolerably  close  as  things  went  in  the 
Queensland  "back  blocks"  in  those  days.  He 
took  up  a  block  of  country  next  to  my  brothers 
in  the  latter  part  of  '85  and  stocked  it  with  sheep. 
Shortly  after  his  arrival,  I  rode  over  from  We- 
aldiwindi — my  brothers'  station — to  pay  my  re 
spects.  I  found  a  tall,  bronzed,  bearded  man, 
apparently  about  thirty-two  years  of  age,  who 
greeted  me  with  perfect  politeness,  yet  with  such 
chilling  reserve  that  the  prospect  of  a  future 
close  acquaintance  appeared  rather  remote. 

Nothing  daunted  by  this  reception,  I  paid 
several  visits  to  Coramballa  during  the  next  few 
months.  I  was  always  received  with  that  hos 
pitality  which  is  a  canon  of  bush  etiquette,  still, 
I  fancied  that  Devereux,  in  his  heart,  wished  I 
would  stay  away. 

You  meet  all  kinds  of  queer  characters  in  the 
bush.  There  being  no  public  opinion  to  con- 

155 


156  THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

aider,  the  mask  of  conventionality  is  often  cast 
aside  and  hidden  traits  in  a  man's  character  be 
come  his  marked  characteristics.  But  a  neigh 
bor  is  a  neighbor  even  though  he  be  surly  as  a 
grizzly  bear ;  in  fact,  you  are  glad  to  have  one 
of  any  kind  in  the  "  back  blocks.5''  So,  not  in 
the  least  deterred  by  the  continued  frigidity 
with  which  my  friendly  advances  were  met,  I 
made  my  visits  more  frequent  in  the  hope  of 
some  day  inducing  my  surly  neighbor  to  "  come 
out  of  his  shell."  The  opinion  I  formed  of 
Devereux  was  that  this  gloomy  reserve  was  not 
his  natural  bent,  but  was  simply  a  misanthropic 
humor  engendered  by  some  overwhelming  dis 
appointment  in  earlier  life.  I  felt  sure  that  be 
neath  his  distant  manner  and  semi-morose  dis 
position  there  lay  a  warm  and  generous  nature. 
In  the  end  my  perseverance  was  rewarded  by  a 
measure  of  success.  While  Devereux  never  at 
any  time  manifested  any  warmth  in  his  greet 
ings,  he  so  far  relaxed  from  his  former  distant 
bearing  as  to  accord  me  the  ghost  of  a  welcom 
ing  smile  when  he  shook  hands.  I  looked  upon 
this  as  proof  positive  of  the  correctness  of  my 
theory,  and  accepted  it  as  an  indication  that  my 
visits  were  no  longer  deemed  unwelcome. 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW.  157 

I  had  no  financial  interest — I  am  sorry  to  say 
— in  my  brothers'  property,  but,  Micawber-like, 
was  simply  waiting  there  "  for  something  to 
turn  up."  So,  having  no  call  upon  my  time,  I 
was  enabled  to  spend  more  of  my  leisure  at 
Coramballa  than  at  Wealdiwindi. 

I  am  bound  to  confess  that  I  felt  not  a  little 
curiosity  in  regard  to  the  past  life  of  my  taciturn 
friend.  He,  however,  rarely  spoke  of  it,  and 
then  only  in  such  a  casual  way  as  to  afford 
no  foundation  for  anything  but  mere  conjec 
ture. 

I  learned  to  like  Devereux  very  much,  and 
began  to  hope  that  the  sentiment  was  mutual, 
as  indeed  it  proved  to  be,  for  we  afterwards 
became  very  warm  friends. 

He  had  been  at  Coramballa  nine  months  or 
so  when  some  lady  cousins  braved  the  solitudes 
of  the  bush  and  paid  us  a  visit  at  Wealdiwindi. 
Devereux  had  never  been  to  our  station,  and 
thinking  this  a  good  opportunity  to  "  draw  him 
out,"  I  rode  over  to  invite  him  to  spend  a  week 
or  two  with  us.  He  listened  to  me,  and  then 
quietly  and  politely  declined  the  invitation. 
Noticing  my  look  of  chagrin,  he  said,  in  an 
apologetic  tone, — 

14 


158  THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

"  You  perhaps  think  me  a  boor  in  declining 
your  hospitality,  but  I  came  out  to  this  sparsely- 
settled  country  expressly  to  avoid  society  of  any 
kind.  I  do  not  wish  to  appear  churlish,  and 
though,  believe  me,  I  value  your  friendship  very 
highly,  I  cannot  make  any  exception  to  what 
is  now  the  rule  of  my  life,  even  for  you.  But 
come  in  and  take  something  to  drink." 

We  sat  down  in  the  front  room :  Devereux 
mixed  a  couple  of  glasses  of  grog  and  filled  his 
pipe.  He  smoked  in  silence  awhile  as  if  con 
sidering  something.  Then  he  laid  his  pipe 
aside,  got  up  and  took  a  photograph  from  a 
bracket  on  the  wall.  He  handed  it  to  me,  and 
said,  abruptly, — 

"  Do  you  recognize  that  ?"  It  was  the  picture 
of  a  bright,  smiling,  manly-looking  young  fellow 
of  some  one  or  two  and  twenty.  There  was  an 
expression  about  the  eyes  that  reminded  me 
somewhat  of  his  own ;  but  when  I  looked  at  his 
bronzed,  heavily-bearded  face,  and  again  at  the 
picture  of  the  laughing  young  fellow,  hairless 
save  for  a  small  curling  moustache,  the  sem 
blance  seemed  to  vanish. 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,"  I  replied,  after  looking  at 
the  photograph  for  some  moments.  "  I  don't 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW.  159 

think  it  is  any  one  I  have  seen  before.  Is  it  a 
brother  of  yours  ?" 

"No,"  said  Devereux,  with  a  peculiar  sad 
smile.  "He  was  not  a  brother  of  mine." 
Again  he  smoked  awhile  in  silence,  and  I 
looked  at  the  picture,  wondering  whether  it  was 
a  link  in  the  chain  of  his  past. 

"  No,"  he  repeated,  musingly.  "  He  was  not 
a  brother  of  mine,  though  ten  years  ago  we 
were  alike  as  two  peas.  If  it  will  not  bore  you, 
I  will  tell  you  an  episode  in  his  life." 

"  Fire  away !"  said  I,  filled  with  astonishment 
at  the  idea  of  his  telling  a  story :  he  had  barely 
uttered  twenty  consecutive  words  during  our 
nine  months'  acquaintance. 

He  laid  down  his  pipe,  took  a  sip  at  his  grog, 
and  began, — 

"  With  Jack's, — I  need  not  give  you  his  other 
name,  every  one  called  him  Jack, — with  Jack's 
early  youth  we  have  nothing  to  do.  It  will  be 
sufficient  for  me  to  say  that  at  the  usual  age  he 
went  to  Rugby,  where  he  was  somewhat  of  a 
<  dab'  at  cricket  and  foot-ball.  After  several 
years  of  floundering  among  Greek  roots  and 
algebraic  formulge  at  that  ancient  seat  of 
juvenile  learning,  he  §gmehow  managed  to 


160  THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

scuffle  into  Sandhurst,  and  in  due  time  got  a 
commission.  While  at  Sandhurst,  Jack,  who 
was  a  romantic,  susceptible  fellow,  became  ac 
quainted  with  the  daughter  of  a  half-pay  officer 
who  lived  in  that  vicinity. 

"  She  was  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  I  ever  saw. 
Such  eyes,  such  hair,  and  such  a  figure,  and 
withal  of  gentle,  loving  nature.  No  wonder 
Jack  lost  his  heart.  I  said  Jack  lost  his  heart. 
I  should  rather  have  said  he  fell  madly  in  love 
with  her,  for,  if  there  is  such  a  passion  as  the 
love  poets  dream  of  and  novelists  rave  about, 
Jack  experienced  it  in  all  its  Ouidaesque 
intensity. 

"  He  was  two  and  twenty  then,— just  the  age 
when  the  boyish  heart  is  most  prone  to  such 
weaknesses.  And  Claire— Claire  Tempest  was 
her  name — loved  Jack, — at  least  she  said  she 
did,— and  Jack  was  just  the  happiest,  brightest 
fellow  in  the  world. 

"Jack  was  poor, — poor  as  a  church  mouse. 
He  had,  in  fact,  nothing  but  his  commission; 
and  you  probably  know  what  a  miserable  dog 
an  officer  is  in  the  British  army  who  has  no 
private  fortune.  And  Claire's  prospects  were 
not  much  brighter,  her  father  having  only  a 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW.  161 

limited  income  outside  of  his  half-pay.  But, 
then,  they  loved  each  other,  these  two,  and  in 
that  blissful  knowledge  they  spent  a  happy  year 
exchanging  vows,  altogether  regardless  of  the 
cold  logic  of  finance.  Then  Jack  asked  the 
general  for  Claire's  hand,  whereat  the  old 
soldier  stormed  and  swore,  called  Jack  a 
'damned,  presumptuous  young  pauper,'  and 
threatened  to  kick  him  out  of  the  house  if  he 
ever  mentioned  or  thought  of  such  a  thing 
again. 

"  Jack  was  bound  to  admit  that  he  was  a 
pauper, — his  worldly  possessions  amounted  to 
something  less  than  seven  hundred  pounds ;  but 
he  thought  the  old  general  might  have  ex 
pressed  his  opinion  in  more  euphemistic  lan 
guage. 

"  So  Jack  talked  the  matter  over  with  Claire, 
and  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  could 
not  marry  on  his  pay.  Would  she  wait  ?  Claire 
kissed  him,  and  with  love's  sweet  hyperbole  said 
she  would  wait  a  hundred  years  for  *  her  Jack.' 

"  And  Jack,  looking  at  the  subject  from  all  its 
bearings,  decided  that  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  emigrate. 

" '  Far  pastures  are  always  green,'  you  know, 
i  14* 


162  THE   OTHER  FELLOW. 

and  after  a  great  deal  of  looking  over  pamphlets 
and  other  printed  matter  eulogistic  of  colonial 
advantages,  he  decided  upon  South  Africa  as 
his  future  home.  '  There's  gold  and  diamonds 
out  there/  he  argued  to  himself  with  boyish 
enthusiasm ;  4  and  I  have  youth,  and  health,  and 
strength,  and  seven  hundred  pounds,  and  I  must 
succeed.' 

"  He  took  a  couple  of  months'  leave  before 
resigning  and  went  down  to  visit  some  relatives 
in  the  west  of  England.  During  his  absence, 
Claire  was  introduced  to  a  Mr.  Forester,  some 
London  financial  swell,  a  fellow  with  heaps  of 
tin,  stocks,  and  bonds,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
and  an  office  on  Lombard  Street.  He  paid 
Claire  marked  attention,  and  visited  the  gen 
eral's  house  so  frequently,  and  took  Claire  to 
balls  and  operas  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  that 
people  began  to  say  they  were  engaged. 

"Jack  heard  of  this  in  some  way,  and,  of 
course,  being  deeply  in  love,  became  insanely 
jealous.  He  came  back  post-haste.  His  first 
question  after  the  usual  lovers'  greeting  was, — 

"  *  What  is  all  this  about  this  banker  fellow?' 

"'Why,  Jack,  what  do  you  mean?  which 
banker  fellow  ?'  Claire  asked,  innocently. 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW.  163 

"<  Which  banker  fellow?'  blurted  Jack, 
fiercely.  '  Why,  the  banker  fellow, — the  fellow 
from  London.' 

"  <  Oh !'  smiled  Claire,  <  Mr.  Forester.  Why, 
Jack,  you  silly,  jealous  boy,  he  is  fifty, — old 
enough  to  be  my  father  twice  over.' 

"  <  And  you  don't  care  a  rap  for  him, — and, — 
and  it's  not  true  what  people  say  ?'  gulped  Jack. 

"And  then  Claire  nestled  close  to  him  and 
said, — 

"  i  Oh,  Jack,  my  own  darling  Jack,  how  could 
you  think  it,'  and  held  up  her  pretty  face  to  be 
kissed,  and  of  course  Jack  kissed  it,  believed 
her,  and  was  happy  again. 

"  Well,  the  time  came  for  him  to  leave.  The 
old  general  was  so  glad  to  get  him  out  of  the 
way  that  he  yielded  to  Claire's  entreaties,  and 
took  her  down  to  Southampton  to  see  Jack  off. 

"  Jack  lingered  at  the  gangway  at  the  immi 
nent  risk  of  missing  the  steamer,  and,  at  the 
final  moment,  strained  Claire  to  his  breast  in  a 
last  fond  embrace,  while  she  repeated  for  the 
hundredth  time  a  tearful  promise  to  wait  for 
and  think  of  him  always. 

"Jack  stood  at  the  stern,  gazing  at  the  re 
ceding  shore  with  misty  eyes,  until  the  slender 


164  THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

figure  waving  the  last  good-by  was  lost  in  the 
blur  of  distance. 

"Poor  Jack!  How  bravely  he  tried  during 
the  voyage  to  be  his  old  genial  self.  If  he  had 
not  felt  Claire  to  be  the  most  loving,  trustful, 
faithful  girl  in  all  the  world,  I  believe  he  would 
have  been  tempted  to  go  back ;  but  he  had  every 
faith  in  her  constancy,  and  he  felt  that  he  must 
brave  this  separation  a  few  years  for  her  sake. 

"  At  the  Cape  he  tried  everything  that  a 
1  new  chum'  with  limited  means  usually  does. 
He  '  dabbled'  in  wool,  in  cattle,  and  in  mining 
shares,  and  while  he  met  with  varying  success, 
as  the  old  bush  song  says,  he 

'   .  .  .  did  no  good  at  all,  as  a  rule.' 

"  But  Jack  was  stout-hearted  and  hopeful  and 
had  no  doubt  of  ultimate  success.  He  wrote 
cheering  letters,  to  which,  in  due  time,  loving 
answers  came.  Suddenly,  however,  these  an 
swers  ceased,  and  when  week  after  week  passed, 
and  no  replies  came  to  his  letters,  he  grew 
despondent  and  gloomy. 

"  i  She  could  not  have  forgotten  him  so  soon.' 
Either  she  was  ill  or  her  father  intercepted  his 
letters.  There  was  something  wrong,  but  it 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW,  165 

was  not  with  her.  He  would  have  staked  his 
soul  on  her  faith  and  love.  And  then  he 
would  write  another  letter. 

"  About  this  time  the  trouble  with  the  Basutos 
began.  The  organization  of  the  Mounted  Rifles 
appealed  to  Jack's  soldier  instincts,  and  he  re 
solved  to  join  them.  He  invested  his  remaining 
capital  in  some  mining  shares,  and  enlisted. 
His  former  military  training  here  stood  him  in 
good  stead,  and  promotion  came  rapidly.  Jack's 
low  spirits  revived  under  the  excitement  of  the 
times,  and  he  was  once  more  his  old  genial 
self. 

"Well,  I'm  getting  rather  long-winded,  am  I 
not  ?  So  I'll  cut  it  short.  Those  niggers  gave 
us  lots  of  work,  and  on  several  occasions  made 
things  rather  lively  for  us.  One  day  we  met 
them  in  force,  and  for  a  time  matters  went 
against  us.  A  whole  lot  of  them  were  sheltered 
in  a  belt  of  scrub  on  our  right,  from  which  they 
picked  us  off  at  their  leisure.  Mind  you,  these 
were  no  naked  assegai-throwing  savages,  but 
fellows  who  were  armed  as  well  as  we  were,  and 
no  mean  marksmen,  either. 

" '  If  we  only  had  a  mountain  howitzer,' 
sighed  the  colonel,  i  I'd  make  it  hot  for  those 


166  THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

black  devils.  But  we  haven't,  so  it's  got  to  be 
done  some  other  way.' 

"  '  Captain  Travers,'  he  said  to  the  captain  of 
Jack's  troop,  '  take  your  troop  and  clean  those 
beggars  out.' 

"  Travers  saluted  and  formed  the  troop  for 
the  duty  assigned  him.  Many  a  stout  fellow's 
heart  came  into  his  mouth,  for  there  would  be  a 
score  of  empty  saddles  when  the  troop  came 
back,  if,  indeed,  it  ever  came  back  at  all. 
Travers  rode  at  the  scrub,  and  soon  men  began 
to  fall.  Half-way  over,  Travers  wavered.  He 
had  lost  his  lieutenant  and  twelve  men  already, 
and  the  troop  was  only  three-quarters  strong. 
As  he  turned  in  the  saddle  to  shout  some  order, 
a  bullet  struck  him  in  the  temple  and  he  fell 
from  his  horse.  Instantly,  Jack — he  was  troop 
sergeant-major — rode  to  the  front.  *  Follow  me, 
boys,'  he  shouted,  '  I  command  this  troop  now.' 
And  his  stentorian  6  Charge!'  met  with  a  wild, 
responsive  hurrah  from  the  men.  His  enthu 
siasm  aroused  their  flagging  spirits  and  filled 
them  with  all  their  old  dash  and  vim. 

"  Well,  we  cleaned  those  niggers  out  com 
pletely,  but  Jack  was  brought  back  with  a  hole 
in  his  shoulder,  and  invalided  to  the  rear.  His 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW.  167 

wound  turned  out  to  be  more  serious  than  at  first 
supposed,  the  hall  having  passed  perilously  close 
to  a  main  artery.  The  doctor  looked  grave,  and 
said  that  Jack  had  a  chance,  hut  that  it  wasn't 
worth  much.  And,  indeed,  it  was  touch  and  go 
with  him  for  days.  But  when  he  began  to 
mend,  there  was  good  news  for  him.  A  letter 
from  Capetown  informed  him  that,  owing  to 
some  remarkably  rich  '  finds,'  his  mining  shares 
had  been  sold  at  a  large  profit,  and  that  some 
thing  like  ten  thousand  pounds  lay  to  his  credit 
in  the  Bank  of  Africa,  at  Capetown. 

"  This  news  gave  him  new  heart.  The  tide 
had  turned,  luck  was  his  at  last.  The  thought 
filled  his  feeble  frame  with  a  glow  of  ecstacy. 
Ten  thousand  pounds  would  buy  a  handsome 
property  in  South  Africa,  and  as  soon  as  he  was 
able  he  would  go  over  to  England  and  bring  her 
out.  But  he  might  die.  He  was  yet  pale  and 
feeble,  with  but  a  frail  hold  on  life.  He  would 
secure  his  little  fortune  to  her  in  case  anything 
should  happen  to  him.  So  that  evening  he  sent 
for  a  lawyer  to  make  his  will,  and  when  he  had 
appended  a  faint  scrawl  to  it  by  way  of  signature, 
he  went  to  sleep  with  hope  and  love  in  his  heart. 

"  A  week  or  so  later  the  English  mail  was 


168  THE  OTHER  FELLOW. 

due.  I  remember  the  day  very  well.  It  was  a 
calm,  still  morning,  and  the  sun  shone  in  through 
the  open  window,  making  the  plain,  whitewashed 
room  look  quite  bright  and  cheery.  Jack  lay 
near  the  window,  looking  for  the  hoisting  of  the 
flag  on  the  Government  building  that  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  mail. 

"  It  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  had  a  letter. 
How  anxiously  he  had  awaited  the  arrival  of 
every  mail,  and  how  confidently  he  had  ex 
pected  that  when  one  failed  the  next  would 
surely  bring  him  news. 

"  He  watched  the  distribution  of  the  letters  in 
the  ward  with  hungry  eyes.  Sure  enough,  there 
was  a  letter  for  him,  and  from  Claire,  too.  How 
his  heart  leaped  when  he  saw  it.  He  opened 
it  with  trembling  fingers,  and  then  uttered  a 
strange  gulping  sound  that  brought  the  nurses 
quickly  to  his  side.  At  first  they  thought  this 
sudden  shock  was  death.  But  he  had  only 
swooned,  and  beside  him  on  the  coverlet  lay  the 
cause,— the  delicately  perfumed  note  from  Claire. 
"  Well,  perhaps  she  only  did  what  nine  women 
out  of  ten  would  have  done,  and  no  doubt  wras 
congratulated  by  her  friends  on  having  taken  a 
very  sensible  course. 


THE  OTHER  FELLOW.  169 

"And  Jack?  No,  he  did  not  die.  But  that 
letter  killed  all  faith  and  hope  and  belief  within 
him.  It  filled  his  heart  with  gall  and  worm 
wood,  and  made  him  a  cynic,  a  misanthrope,  a 
hermit,  if  you  will. 

"  What  was  in  the  note  ?  It  is  so  long  ago 
now  that  I  can't  recall  the  exact  words.  But  it 
ran  somehow  like  this, — 

" '  DEAR  JACK, — All  your  letters  have  been  re 
ceived.  The  last  one  touched  me  so  I  had  to 
write  and  tell  you.  It  was  foolish  of  us  to  care 
for  each  other,  Jack.  I  was  poor  and  you  were 
poorer ;  why  then  should  we  waste  the  best  years 
of  our  lives  in  waiting  for  that  which  could 
never  be.  Poor  people  have  no  right  to  fall  in 
love.  Good-by,  Jack ;  if  you  ever  cared  for  me, 
forgive  me,  and  in  time  you  will  forget.' 

"It  was  signed  Claire  Forester.  She  had 
married  the  banker,  and, — and, — well,  that  is 
all." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  other  fellow, — of 
Jack?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh !"  said  Devereux,  calmly,  as  he  refilled 
his  pipe,  "  I  am  the  other  fellow." 

H  15 


BUTTONS. 


171 


BUTTONS. 


"   the  girls   called  him.     Well  might 
they  have  sung, — 

"  And  when  your  glances  rest  on  me, 
Eight  here  they  make  me  feel  so  funny." 

The  class  called  him  "  Shanks,"  for  he  was  very 
long,  and  to  see  him  in  the  riding-hall  with 
those  legs  of  his  clasping  the  hare  ribs  of  a 
Roman-nosed  brute  that  had  broken  the  head 
of  nearly  every  other  man  that  had  tried  to 
ride  him,  was  a  sight  for  gods  and  men.  At 
least  Tommy  Dobbs  thought  so,  but  then  to 
little  Tommy  "  Shanks"  was  perfection. 

It  was  at  the  "  Graduation  Hop ;"  the  emanci 
pated  sure-of-diplomas  had  resolved  to  let  their 
moustaches  grow,  and,  with  the  energies  that 
remained,  assisted  by  Strauss  and  Waldteufel, 
to  waltz  into  the  hearts  of  all  the  pretty  girls  in 
the  room.  All  of  them— the  girls— were  eager 
to  dance  with  "  Eyes,"  and  many  a  heart  flut- 
15*  173 


174  BUTTONS. 

tered  as  the  tall,  graceful  cadet  bowed  and 
begged  for  the  pleasure,  et  ccetera.  Yet  he 
chose  to  dance  oftener  with  Miss  Daisy  Van 
Stump  than  with  any  of  the  others,  and  as  the 
twain  glided  noiselessly  over  the  glassy  floor, 
many  another  pair  paused  to  admire  what 
seemed  to  be  the  poetic  embodiment  of  the 
melody  the  band  was  playing. 

But  even  waltzes  must  have  an  end,  and  as 
the  "  voluptuous  swell"  ceased,  "  Eyes"  and  his 
fair  partner  strolled  away  from 'the  room,  out 
upon  the  green  and  towards  the  Hudson,  whose 
calm  waters  reflected  the  twinkling  of  the  myr 
iads  of  stars  that  shone  in  the  cloudless  blue 
above. 

"And  so  you  go  away  to-morrow,  Miss 
Daisy?" 

"  Yes ;  in  the  morning." 

"  Then  I  may  not  see  you.     I  am  so  sorry " 

"  So  am  I, — we  go  to  the  Springs, — but  we 
shall  see  you  in  New  York?  We  return  in 
September;  and,  Mr.  Eyes, — I  beg  pardon, 
Mr. " 

"  No,  no ;  call  me  '  Eyes,'  Miss  Daisy.  Ah ! 
Daisy,  if  I  may  speak " 

There!     I  can't  go   on.     There   is  but  one 


BUTTONS.  175 

language  for  this  sort  of  thing,  and  as  all  of  us 
have  been  in  love  at  least  once,  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  encumber  the  record  with  what 
would  be  simply  a  rehearsal  of  what  has  been 
going  on  ever  since  Adam  and  Eve  began  it. 
Ill-natured  people  say  that  Eve  began  it.  Well, 
I'm  glad  she  did.  Perhaps  Adam  was 

But  let  us  get  back  to  our  pair  of  rapt  ones. 

There  was  moonlight  all  about  them,  music 
filled  the  air,  and  flowers  bloomed  amid  the 
love  that  stirred  their  hearts.  Why  say  more  ? 
Stay !  Yes  :  as  they  re-entered  the  room  it  was 
observed  in  a  stage  whisper  by  the  eldest  Miss 
Sternchase,  who  had  been  at  the  Point  every 
season  since  the  Mexican  war,  that  a  button  was 
missing  from  the  left  breast  of  "  Eyes's"  jacket, 
and  that  one  of  the  pale-blue  satin  lozenges  that 
adorned  Miss  Daisy's  gown  was  not  where  the 
eldest  Miss  Sternchase  had  last  seen  it. 

The  next  afternoon  many  people  stood  on  the 
wharf  waiting  for  the  steamer  which  was  to 
carry  them  away.  The  Van  Stump  family — 
father,  mother,  and  Daisy — were  of  the  number, 
and  the  crowd  was  freckled  here  and  there  with 
youthful  militaires, — some  going  away,  many  say 
ing  the  last  few  words  they  would  ever  speak  to 


176  BUTTONS. 

the  pink  ears  that  listened;  that  had  listened  to 
others  the  year  before ;  whose  owners  would  be 
ready  the  coming  summer  to  accept  the  devo 
tion  of  the  next  graduating  class.  But  Miss 
Daisy  was  not  one  of  these  light-hearted  triflers, 
— at  least  as  far  as  "  Eyes'7  was  concerned ;  and 
he,  too,  was  there,  looking  as  if,  but  for  the 
bystanders  and  Van  Stump  pere  et  mere,  he 
would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  kept  her 
there  forever.  But  he  couldn't. 

Van  Stump  pere  was  said  to  be  "  made  of 
money,"  and  he  looked  it.  The  mere  was  fat, 
forty,  and  very  red.  People  said  that  while  her 
husband  furnished  the  money,  all  the  "  blood" 
was  on  her  side.  Miss  Daisy  was  a  darling. 
How  she  became  possessed  of  such  parents — I 
mean  as  to  looks— Mr.  Darwin  might  have  ex 
plained.  I  can't.  She  was  tall,— not  too  tall,— a 
figure  round,  yet  lithe  and  springy,  with  violet 
eyes  and  hair  of  wavy  chestnut ;  a  face  that  was 
grave  when  in  repose,  and  that  flashed  like  a 
sudden  burst  of  sunshine  when  she  smiled ;  and 
she  had  that  "  excellent  thing," — a  voice  that 
was  "ever  soft,  gentle,  and  low." 

So  "  Eyes"  had  to  content  himself  with  the 
barest  of  partings, — a  throbbing  grasp ;  a  yearn- 


BUTTONS.  177 

ing  look;  a  tremulous  "good-by;"  a  whispered 
"God  bless  you !"  Then  "  all  aboard!"  was 
suns:  out.  The  boat  moved  into  mid-stream, 

O  ' 

leaving  poor  "  Eyes"  on  the  pier  to  watch  with 
all  his  soul  the  fast-receding  face  and  form  of 
what  was  all  the  world  to  him. 

He  had  actually  forgotten  that  a  Being  with  a 
tape-measure  was  waiting  at  the  other  end  of 
the  road  to  take  his  measure  for  a  uniform ! 
And  as  he  walked  quickly  up  the  hill,  little 
Dobbs,  very  much  out  of  breath,  overtook  him. 

"  Hallo,  Shanks,  old  boy  !  What'll  you  give 
for  some  news  ?  I've  seen  the  list.  You  and  I 
get  the  — th  Cavalry, — think  of  it !  So  we  may 
as  well  go  out  together." 

"  Congraulate  you,  Chick,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Chick"  was  the  fond  abbreviation  of  Chi- 
quito,  as  Tommy  was  styled  by  the  class  "  for 
short,"  somebody  said. 

Shanks  had  naturally  asked  for  a  cavalry  regi 
ment,  but  how  Chick  had  managed  to  climb  into 
the  saddle  was  not  patent  to  the  rest  of  the  class, 
who  knew  his  capacity  for  tumbling  head-first 
into  the  tan-bark  whenever  his  steed — and  all 
the  horses  in  the  riding-hall  were  acquainted 
with  Tommy — grew  tired  of  drill.  There  was 


178  BUTTONS. 

but  one  solution, — he  had  used  family  influ 
ence  (for  he  came  from  the  whisky  part  of 
Kentucky)  to  claim  such  an  assignment  in  order 
to  be  near  his  dearest  friend. 

It  was  arranged,  then,  that  "the  twins,"  as 
they  were  sometimes  called,  should  start  in  com 
pany  for  Dakota,  on  whose  wide  plains  their 
regiment  was  fast  forgetting  all  about  civiliza 
tion. 

"  And  now,"  said  Chick,  "  what  are  you  going 
to  do  with  yourself?  I  must  go  home,  of 
course;  but,  hang  it!  I  don't  want  to  stay  in 
that  distillery-soaked  country  too  long,  and  shall 
get  to  the  seaside  as  soon  as  a  decent  regard  for 
the  bones  of  my  ancestors  will  permit." 

"  To  say  the  truth,  Chick,  I  hardly  know;  my 
guardian's  people  expect  me  to  spend  part  of 
the  next  three  months  with  them ;  but  I  shall 
run  away  down  to  the  sea,  and  take  a  good  long 
look  at  it,  for  you  and  I,  dear  boy,  are  not  likely 
to  see  much  salt-water  in  the  next  few  years. 
Where  do  you  bring  up  ?" 

U0h,  I  shall  go  to  that  place  where  they  have 
a  lot  of  rocks  and  sand,  and  fish  and  things. 
Somewhere  in  Maine, — hang  it !  I  can't  think 
of  the  name.  I've  had  to  remember  such  a  lot 


BUTTONS.  179 

of  stuff  about  HO2,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  (so 
useful  in  the  cavalry),  that  hang  me  if  I  can 
recollect  anything  that  I  do  want  to  know.  But 
it  begins  with  a  B  and  has  a  pool,  whatever  that 
is." 

"  Chick,  my  boy,  that's  just  where  I'm  going, 
— Biddeford  Pool.  Meet  me  there.  Let's  see, 
— I  must  go  to  Richfield  in — — " 

"  Yes ;  I  know.  She  will  be  there.  Go  on. 
Congratulate  you,  old  fellow,  and  all  that;  lots 

of  tin,  and  as  for  beauty "  Here  Chick 

clasped  his  hands  and  gazed  at  the  sky. 

"  Don't  be  a  donkey,  Dobbs.  I  shall  be  there" 
(severely) — "  at  Biddeford  in  August." 

"  Pardon  me.  But,  Shanks,  dear  old  follow, 
I  saw  it  all  when  you  both  came  back  to  the 
ball-room  last  night,  and — Gad!  Fm  as  happy 
about  it  as  if — as  if — as  if  I  were  going  to  marry 
you  myself!" 

By  this  time  the  two  friends  had  reached  the 
hallowed  spot  where  the  Being  from  New  York 
was  waiting  with  the  tape-measure.  One  of  the 
results  of  his  efforts  was  rather  startling  to 
Tommy's  mamma,  who  said,  when  her  son  ap 
peared  to  her  wondering  eyes  in  the  full-dress 
uniform  of  a  second  lieutenant  of  cavalry, 


180  BUTTONS. 

"  Sakes  alive,  Tommy !  if  you  don't  look  jest 
like  the  inside  of  a  mustard-pot!" 

II. 

THE  harvest  moon  in  the  fullness  thereof  was 
making  a  very  early  start  just  above  the  eastern 
horizon,  glinting  with  a  rosy  red  the  jagged 
rocks  that  make  picturesque  the  southwest  coast 
of  Maine,  and  in  the  mellow  light  it  cast  along 
the  glistening  beach  many  pairs  of  human  doves 
found  food  for  tender  words.  But  of  these,  two 
only  are  just  now  very  interesting. 

"Who  were  they  ? 

Listen. 

"  What  a  delightful  night  for  boating,  is  it 
not  ?"  This  from  one  who  at  first  glance  looked 
very  like  the  Daisy. 

But  she  wasn't  The.  And  yet  her  likeness 
to  Daisy  was  the  cause  of  the  interest,  the 
something,  that,  as  it  overhung  the  tender  edge 
of  friendship,  was  felt  for  her  by  her  com 
panion,  who  answered, — 

"  Yes ;  look  how  the  light  seems  to  swim 
upon  the  waves.  How  calm  it  is !" 

A  pudgy  youth  who  was  the  male  bird  of  the 
other  pair,  and  none  other  than  Tommy  Dobbs, 


BUTTONS.  181 

with  a  new  moustache  looking  like  the  business 
end  of  an  old  tooth-brush,  here  lifted  up  his 
voice  with, — 

"I  say,  Shanks!  we  are  about  to  get  up  a 
rowing-party  to  the  island  and  back,  and  you 
and  Miss  Mop  us  are  booked  to  go." 

"•Oh,  that  will  be  nice  !"  said  the  young  lady, 
w^ho  was  the  one  with  whom  Shanks  was,  as 
Tommy  said,  rather  coarsely,  "  keeping  his 
hand  in."  "  Really,  Mr.  Sinclair,  of  all  things 
in  the  world  a  moonlight  row  is  what  I  most 
dote  on." 

And  his  name  was  Jack  Sinclair.  The  girls 
hereabout  did  not  call  him  "  Eyes,"  as  did  those 
who  knew  him  where  he  wore  gray  cloth  and 
pipe-clay;  and  yet  they  felt  the  magic  of  his 
glance  none  the  less. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  big  barge,  filled  with  a 
jolly,  melodious  crowd,  was  off  and  away  o'er 
the  waters  blue,  but  Jack  and  Miss  Mopus  were 
not  in  it. 

How  did  this  happen  ? 

This  was  the  way.  When  the  party  arrived 
at  the  pier  whence  they  were  to  descend  into 
the  barge,  Jack  and  Miss  Mopus,  who  had 
stopped  to  admire  a  cloud-effect  or  something 

16 


182  BUTTONS. 

else,  were  a  little  in  the  rear  of  the  column.  I 
say  Jack  and  Miss  Mopus,  but  it  was  Miss  M. 
who  did  the  halting,  and  Jack,  out  of  his 
natural  courtesy,  forbore  to  urge  her  onward. 
Poor  boy !  this  gentleness  cost  him  much. 

So  when  they  did  at  length  reach  the  stairs  at 
the  foot  of  which  the  barge  rocked  lazily,  it — 
the  boat — was  quite  comfortably  full,  and  the 
only  available  place  was  a  bit  of  a  triangular 
seat  up  in  the  bow,  full  of  holes  like  a  colan 
der,  upon  which  Miss  Mopus  said  she  would  not 
sit :  they  must  find  room  elsewhere. 

"  But,  hang  it ! — I  beg  pardon ! — you  can't. 
We're  like  a  lot  of  sardines  back  here.  Might 
make  room  for  you,  Miss  Mopus,  and  I'll  give 
way  for  Shanks  and  go  ashore."  All  this  from 
Tommy  Dobbs. 

But  Tommy's  young  lady  was  not  going  to 
stand  any  such  nonsense,  and  she  said,  in  a  low 
but  very  energetic  voice,  that  gave  promise  of 
an  uncertain  future  for  him  who  should  win — 
I  had  almost  said  "and  wear" — her;  but  she 
would  do  the  wearing, — 

"  Mr.  Dobbs,  you  are  not  going  to  desert  me 
for  that  Mr.  Shanks,  I  know." 

Before  Tommy  could  say  a  word  either  way 


BUTTONS.  183 

Shanks  called  out,  in  his  big  voice,  "No,  no, 
Chick!  Stay  where  you  are.  There's  a  little 
'dinky'  tied  somewhere  here,  and  Miss  Mopus 
and  I  will  soon  be  in  your  wake.  You  will  not 
mind  going  with  me,  Miss  Mopus  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  should  be  charmed,  Mr.  Shan — 
Mr.  Sinclair." 

So,  as  soon  as  the  barge  crew  pulled  away 
from  the  pier,  Shanks,  having  found  the 
"  dinky,"  brought  it  to  the  foot  of  the  dripping 
steps,  and  Miss  Mopus  was  soon  sitting  in  the 
stern-sheets,  her  hand  on  the  tiller,  having  on 
the  way  thither  made  two  ingeniously  unsuc 
cessful  attempts  to  swamp  the  craft  by  twice 
convulsively  seizing  Shanks  as  he  stood  up  to 
assist  her  across  the  thwarts.  Off  they  went  in 
the  track  of  the  bubbles  left  in  the  wake  of  the 
barge,  now  many  yards  ahead.  But  Shanks 
pulled  a  strong  oar,  and  at  first  it  looked  as  if 
the  distance  might  decrease ;  but  it  didn't.  The 
little  boat  was  so  light,  and  Miss  Mopus  was  so — 
well,  not  heavy,  but  her  heavenly  body  was  of  the 
first  magnitude — that  the  "  dinky's"  bow  stood 
up  a  little,  and,  as  the  light  chopping  sea  slapped 
at  her,  showed  just  a  little  bit  of  keel.  Conse 
quently  rowing  was  difficult  work,  even  for  one 


184  BUTTONS. 

who,  like  Shanks,  had  had  the  odor  of  brine  in 
his  nostrils  all  his  life.  And  thus  it  happened 
that  the  barge,  rapidly  gaining,  soon  rounded  the 
rocky  point  of  the  island  and  was  lost  to  view. 

Shanks  saw  nothing  of  this,  for,  like  the  man 
in  the  song,  he  "looked  one  way  and  rowed 
another."  Courtesy  demanded  that  he  should 
look  at  his  vis-a-vis,  who  would  look  at  him  and 
talk,  and  he  found  it  a  pleasant  thing  to  do, 
though  his  heart  was  safe  in  the  memory  of  the 
one  dear  girl  far  away.  Miss  Mop  us  talked 
very  well ;  she  was  very  pretty ;  and  being  like 
Daisy  in  many  things  physical,  there  was,  as  I 
have  said,  a  certain  tie,  made  up  of  interest,  as 
one  would  feel  in  gazing  at  a  not-too-well- 
drawn  picture  of  a  friend.  Like  and  yet  not 
like.  That  sort  of  thing. 

Well,  the  lady  talked.  They  all  do,  bless 
their  dear  souls ! — yes.  Some  more  than  others, 
— never  less.  And  as  she  talked  and  gazed  on 
the  handsome  brown  face  before  her,  she  paid 
no  attention  to  the  course  of  the  vessel  she  was 
assumed  to  be  steering,  when,  all  at  once, — 
bump !  and  Miss  Mopus  fell  nearly  into  the 
arms  of  Shanks,  who,  easing  oars,  replaced  the 
lady,  and  remarked, — 


BUTTONS.  185 

"Great  Scott!  what's  that?"  And  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  turned  his  head  to  find  that 
the  nose  of  the  "  dinky"  was  fast  in  the  sandy 
beach.  So  much  for  Miss  Mopus's  steering ! 

"  I  say,  Miss  Mopus,  we  can't  cross  the  island, 
you  know."  And  the  youngster  laughed. 

It  was  not  polite,  and  she  chose  to  he  in  a 
little  pet.  One  does  not  like  to  be  told  of  one's 
faults,  and  least  of  all  by  the  one  who  is  dear, 
and  Miss  Mopus  had  begun  to  find  that  Shanks 
was  very  dear  to  her.  There  was  enough  in  the 
situation — the  moonlight,  the  everything — to 
make  fire  where  but  an  hour  ago  was  just  a 
little  smoke.  And  when  Shanks  apologized  for 
his  rudeness  in  his  soothing  way,  Miss  Mopus's 
heart  fell  fluttering  at  his  feet.  But  he  knew  it 
not.  Not  he !  He  was  too  modest,  too  loyal  to 
the  girl  whose  blue  lozenge,  held  by  a  golden 
thread  about  his  neck,  lay  close  against  his 
heart  (for  he  was  a  little  bit  sentimental),  to 
dream  that  any  one  else  could  weave  a  tender 
thought  for  him.  And  yet  when  the  Mopus  laid 
her  soft,  white,  perfectly  modeled  hand  on  his, 
pressing  it  just  a  little ;  looked  with  her  deep 
gray  eyes,  that  had  a  nice  way  of  dilating  and 
moistening,  into  his,  and  said  in  her  full  voice, 
16* 


186  BUTTONS. 

so  like  Daisy's  own,  that  she  forgave  him,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  he  felt  a  little  queer. 
Man  is  called  the  sterner  sex,  but  really,  in  a 
case  of  this  kind,  the  odds  are  on  the  other 
side. 

However,  he  said  nothing, — nothing  that  his 
Daisy,  had  she  then  arisen  like  another  Aphro 
dite  from  the  sparkling  foam,  might  not  have 
listened  to,  but  he  did  say, — 

u  The  barge  must  be  just  round  that  point, 
and,  if  you  like,  Miss  Mopus,  we  may  as  well 
scramble  over  the  rocks  and  surprise  them  all. 
They  won't  expect  to  see  us  coming  overland,— 
I  know  every  step  of  the  way." 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,  I'm  sure,  for  I  feel 
just  a  little  cramped,  from  sitting  so  long.  So 
good  of  you  to  propose  a  walk." 

So  Shanks  sprang  out,  taking  with  him  a 
light,  three-pronged  anchor  secured  by  a  line, 
the  other  end  of  which  was  reeved  in  a  ring  set 
in  the  bow.  This  he  sunk  in  the  sand,  and  then 
returned  to  the  boat,  from  which  he  helped  Miss 
Mopus  to  disembark,  the  seizing  business  being 
repeated  as  she  skipped  over  the  gunwale  to  the 
somewhat  sloppy  beach.  Foreseeing  that  the 
ebbing  tide  might  leave  the  boat  high  and  dry, 


BUTTONS.  187 

he  gave  it  plenty  of  rope,  and  midway  upon  the 
line  set  a  heavy  stone  to  prevent  the  "  slack" 
dragging  the  anchor.  Then  the  pair  started  for 
the  other  side  of  the  rocky  point. 

The  way  was  rough  and  rugged,  and  the 
moon  had  a  tantalizing  way  (Shanks  thought, — 
Mop  as  didn't)  of  going  behind  bits  of  black 
with  silver-edged  cloud  when  they  came  to  a 
place  where  the  assistance  of  a  strong  arm  was 
necessary.  The  situation  was  not  without  its 
charm,  for  when  the  moon  chose  to  do  the 
magic-lantern  act,  Miss  Mopus  would  creep  con 
fidingly  closer  to  her  escort.  Yet,  notwith 
standing  the  animal,  man,  usually  becomes 
human  under  such  circumstances,  Shanks  be 
haved  in  so  stolid  a  way  that  Miss  Mopus 
thought  him  decidedly  the  reverse.  And  so,  in 
this  manner,  the  pair  surmounted  the  point  and 
descended  to  the  beach  on  its  other  side  to  find 
— nothing!  No  barge,  no  party,  nothing  but 
the  beach  glistening  like  a  white  ribbon  twixt 
them  and  the  deep,  blue,  moonlit  expanse  of 
dancing  water  that  stretched  away  until  it  met 
the  star-specked  sky. 

"Why — wh — where  are  they?"  from  Miss 
Mopus. 


188  BUTTONS. 

"  They  didn't  land  here  at  all,"  said  Shanks, 
who  had  been  looking  up  and  down  the  smooth 
beach  for  tracks  and  footprints,  bat  had  found 
none. 

"  Then  what  shall  we  do  ?" 
"  Only  one  thing  to  do, — go  back." 
And  so  they  went  back  over  the  rocks  with 
the  same  experience  as  to  moon,  clouds,  and  so 
on,  but  less  enthusiasm  on  the  part  of  Shanks, 
who  didn't  quite  like  the  way  the  bargeites  had 
given  him  the  slip,  as  he  thought.  And  he  had 
let  Miss  Mopus  steer !  and,  of  course— but  then 
it  would  be  unmanly  to  blame  her.  He  ought 
to  have  kept  a  sharp  lookout  and  followed  the 
barge.  Miss  Mopus  was  not  at  all  put  out. 
Hers  was  one  of  those  large,  unangular,  indolent 
natures  that  seldom  take  things  au  serieux  until 

they   begin  to   look  very  black,  and   then 

But  at  present  everything  was  roseate  and  fair 
in  her  mind's  eye,  and  she  may  have  clung  a 
little  closer  to  her  escort's  arm  as  they  toiled  up 
and  down  the  smooth,  moss-grown  rocks  that 
lay  twixt  them  and  the  place  where  they  had 
left  the  "  dinky"  dancing  on  the  wave. 

And  when  they  got  there,  the  "  dinky"  was— 
where  ? 


BUTTONS  189 

"  We  can't  have  lost  our  way !  This,  cer 
tainly,  was  the  spot  where  we  left  our  boat," 
said  Shanks,  dropping  Miss  Mopus's  arm  and 
running  to  the  edge  of  the  shore,  apparently  in 
search  of  something,  which  he  soon  found.  It 
was  a  stone,  beneath  it  a  rope,  the  end  of  which 
was  ragged,  as  if  it  had  been  sawed  in  twain. 
This  was  the  end  towards  the  sea.  The  other 
seemed  to  be  fast ;  and  going  towards  it,  Shanks 
found  the  anchor  as  he  had  left  it,  half  buried 
in  the  sand.  It  seemed  that  the  ebb  of  the  tide 
had  tautened  the  line,  and  the  swaying  motion  of 
the  boat  had  caused  the  strands  to  part  as  they 
worked  back  and  forth  against  the  edges  of  the 
rough  stone  which  Shanks  had  placed  on  it. 
This  very  precaution  had  caused  the  disaster. 

With  a  sinking  heart  he  turned  to  say  what 
could  not  be  left  unsaid ;  but  the  lady  did  not 
wait  for  him.  She  was,  to  put  it  mildly,  in  a 
rage.  She  reasoned,  or  rather,  she  concluded, 
for  in  the  state  of  mind  she  found  herself  in 
just  then  reason  had  no  place,  that  poor  Shanks 
had  purposely  kept  out  of  the  way  of  the  larger 
boat,  and  that  the  disappearance  of  the  "  dinky" 
had  been  part  of  his  plan.  It  was  an  outrageous 
thought,  and  she  was  insane  enough  to  give  it 


190  BUTTONS. 

words.  She  could  have  torn  her  tongue  away 
a  moment  afterwards  when  she  saw  the  horror 
that  stood  in  his  eyes. 

For  a  moment  Shanks  was  silent.  Then  he 
spoke :  "  Miss  Mopus,  you  wrong  me  terribly. 
But  it  is  not  far  to  the  Pool;  I  think  I  can 
make  it  in  an  hour,  and  soon  afterwards  you 
will  be  with  your  friends." 

He  slipped  off  the  light  sack  he  wore,  and 
kicking  off  his  low  shoes,  ran  swiftly  to  where 
the  sea  met  the  shore.  But  she  was  at  his  side 
in  a  moment,  all  anger  gone,  and,  catching  him 
by  the  sleeve, — 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?" 

He  stopped, — gently  tried  to  take  his  arm 
from  her  grasp,  saying,  quietly,  "  Swim  to  the 
Pool,  Miss  Mopus.  Do  not  detain  me.  The 
tide  is  now  at  a  stand,  and  time  is  precious." 

"  Swim  !  Oh,  you  will  not  be  so  rash  !  For 
my  sake,  too,  after  I  have  been  so — so — so  un 
just  !  To  risk  your  like  for " 

"Miss  Mopus,"  said  Shanks,  "I  must  leave 
you.  I  cannot  permit " 

u  You  shall  not  go !  That  is,  not  without  me ; 
I  mean Oh !  Jack,  do  you  not  under 
stand  what  I  mean  ?  Forgive  me  for  the  horrid 


BUTTONS.  191 

words  I  spoke.  What  must  you  think  of  me ! 
Do  not  despise  me,  Jack;  do  not  leave  me!" 
And  with  tears  she  threw  her  arms  about  him. 

He  endeavored  to  escape  from  the  encircling 
folds  of  her  warm  embrace,  but  so  firm  was  her 
convulsive  clasp  that  without  roughness  he 
could  not.  In  vain  he  protested  that  he  was 
quite  able  to  swim,  that  he  had  often  accom 
plished  even  greater  distances,  and  that  she 
ought  for  her  own  sake  to  release  him  and  let 
him  take  advantage  of  the  tide  ere  it  turned. 
But  to  all  this  was  she  deaf,  averring  that  she 
would  not  cease  to  cling  to  him ;  that  if  he  went 
into  the  water  it  must  be  with  her  arms  about 
him;  and  at  last,  with  beseeching  tears  and 
frantic  words,  extorted  from  him  a  promise 
which  a  moment  later  he  cursed  himself  for 
giving, — that  he  would  abandon  all  thought  of 
swimming  across  the  water,  which  now,  owing 
to  the  freshening  breeze,  was  beginning  to  chop 
about  unpleasantly. 

Then  she  let  go,  with  a  long  sigh,  and  Shanks, 
who  saw  that  he  was  in  for  it,  led  her  away 
from  the  damp  sand  to  where  it  was  dryer  and 
less  open  to  the  moist  and  chilling  wind.  Then 
he  quickly  brought  together  some  of  the  flotsam 


192  BUTTONS. 

and  jetsam  that  formed  the  high-water  mark, 
and  having  in  his  pocket  matches,  made  a  fire. 
A  large,  hollowed  rock  formed  a  convenient 
resting-place,  and  soon  Miss  Mopus  was,  she 
said,  quite  comfortable.  Shanks  sat  down  on 
another  rock  near  by,  and,  at  Miss  Mopus's 
desire,  lit  a  cigar.  She  "  adored  cigars."  But 
he  was  very  silent.  She  thought  to  herself  that, 
considering  how  affairs  stood,  he  might  say 
something  ;  but  she  failed  to  take  notice  that  the 
standing  of  these  affairs  was  a  little  one-sided, 
and  yet  she  was  very  happy.  She  might  have 
been  vexed  at  his  moody  silence  had  she  not 
begun  to  be  very  sleepy.  The  long  walk,  the 
excitement  and  reaction,  the  fresh  breeze,  the 
warmth  of  the  blazing  pile,  the  fumes  of  the 
cigar,  all  combined  to  overcome  her  senses,  and, 
leaning  against  the  rock,  she  gently  lapsed  into 
the  land  of  dreams. 

Shanks  sat  still  and  pondered.  He  knew 
enough  of  the  world  to  be  certain  that  lots  of  un 
pleasant  things  would  be  said  about  them  both, 
and  as  he  smoked  and  thought,  he  resolved,  as 
he  glanced  at  the  sleeping  girl,  that  he  would  do 
all  that  any  man  might  be  called  upon  to  do  in 
such  a  case.  Tender  thoughts  of  Daisy  came 


BUTTONS.  193 

upon  trim,  and  the  sweet  tones  of  her  voice  as 
she  had  said  good-by,  after  a  week  of  bliss  at 
Richfield,  came  back  as  if  borne  upon  the  wave. 
She  would  hear  of  this ;  he  should  certainly  tell 
her  of  it.  It  would  come  best  from  him.  Then 
came  the  thought :  "Why  on  earth  those  people 
over  there  did  not  send  in  search  of  them? 
Perhaps  they  were  looking  for  them, — yet  it 
was  strange  they  did  not  come  to  the  island. 
Then  again,  why  should  they  come  to  the 
island  ?  Altogether  it  was  very  unpleasant,  and 
he  longed  for  morning.  At  last  the  rosy  sun 
shot  up  from  the  sea,  and  Shanks  began  to  feel 
that,  as  the  night  had  passed  away,  it  might  not 
prove  such  a  confounded  mess  after  all;  so 
piling  a  few  sticks  on  the  dying  embers,  he  lit 
a  fresh  cigar  and  strolled  towards  the  beach. 

When  at  the  edge  of  the  shore,  he  gazed 
anxiously  towards  the  Pool,  half  expecting  to 
see  something  setting  their  way ;  but  no, — there 
was  nothing.  He  looked  back  at  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  companion.  She  had 
not  stirred.  Then  he  walked  along  the  beach, 
which  soon  bent  seaward,  when  in  the  red  light 
of  the  early  sun  he  saw,  close  at  hand,  that 
which  made  his  heart  stop. 
i  n  17 


194  BUTTONS. 

Not  a  hundred  yards  off,  and  held  in  a  cluster 
of  sharp,  black  rocks  that  stood  up  above  the 
fast-rising  wave,  was  a  dark  object  that  in 
creasing  daylight  told  him  was  a  boat. 

It  was  the  "  dinky."  But  how  came  it  there  ? 
He  saw  it  all :  the  ebbing  tide  had  carried  her 
that  way, — she  had  jammed  between  the  rocks, 
— the  flood  would  soon  carry  her  far  away  to 
sea.  Not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost.  In  he 
plunged,  and,  after  a  few  minutes'  rough  buffet 
ing  with  the  white-caps  which  boiled  about  the 
jagged  cliffs,  his  hand  was  upon  the  gunwale  of 
the  boat,  that  with  this  slight  shock  floated  free 
in  an  instant. 

He  lifted  himself  in ;  found  the  oars ;  at  once, 
with  a  few  swift  nervous  strokes,  drove  the 
"  dinky"  half  her  length  upon  the  sandy  beach, 
and  a  moment  later  stood  dripping  like  a  Triton 
before  Miss  Mopus,  who  at  that  instant  awoke. 

"  How  you  startled  me !  Have  I  been  asleep  ? 

But,  Mr.  Sinclair,  why,  are  we Oh,  yes,  I 

remember  now ;  and  you  are  so  wet, — it  has  not 
rained  ?" 

"Pardon  me  if  I  am  abrupt.  But  we  have 
not  a  moment  to  lose.  The  boat  is  waiting. 
Come !" 


BUTTONS.  195 

"The  boat!  And  you  have  done  what  you 
said  you  would  not  do.  You  might  have 
drowned,  and  what  would  have  become  of  me  ? 
Oh,  Mr.— Jack!" 

"  I  have  not  been  to  the  Pool,  Miss  Mopus," 
returned  Shanks,  who,  in  a  few  modest  words, 
related  what  had  happened.  And  then,  in  a 
moment  more,  the  two  castaways  bade  adieu  to 
their  island  with  light  yet  anxious  hearts. 


III. 

WE  have  seen  that  the  barge  did  not  touch  at 
the  island,  and  hence  it  follows  that,  having  cir 
cled  it  about,  its  crew  took  it  back  to  the  Pool, 
where  the  party  were  not  a  little  surprised  to 
learn  that  Shanks  and  Miss  Mopus  had  not  re 
turned.  Still,  no  one  thought  of  danger,  and, 
after  a  few  rather  loud  whispers,  the  matter 
appeared  to  have  been  dismissed  from  the  minds 
of  all  save  Tommy  and  his  fair  enslaver. 

"  Hang  it !  you  know,"  said  little  Tommy,  "  I 
don't  like  it  at  all.  Engaged,  you  know,  to  the 
very  loveliest  creature  you  ever  saw," — a  doubt 
ful  sniff  from  the  lady, — "  and  to  go  off  and  stay 
off  in  this  way  with  another  girl !  It's  not  a  bit 


196  BUTTONS. 

like  old  Shanks,  Miss  Bang,— well,  Ophelia, 
then." 

"  As  for  your  Miss  Mopus " 

"  My  Miss  Mopus !  Well,  I  like  that.  Keally, 
Miss  Ban — Ophelia,  then " 

"  Be  good  enough  not  to  interrupt.  I  am  not 
surprised  at  any  extraordinary  departure  from — 
from — well,  you  know  what  I  mean — on  the 
part  of  that  young  person ;  and  as  for  that  Mr. 
Shanks, — as  he  calls  himself, — well,  all  men  are 
alike." 

"  I  say,  you  know,  Miss  Ba — Ophelia,  then,  if 
all  men  were  like  old  Shanks,  what  a  jolly  world 
this  would  be!  Eh!" 

Miss  Bang  might  have  retorted,  but  she  re 
frained;  and  the  bright  promise  of  an  affec 
tionate  "  good-night"  was  eclipsed  by  the  ap 
pearance  on  the  scene  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mopus, 
who  were  naturally  worried  about  their  daugh 
ter.  So  the  vestal  Bang  withdrew,  accompanied 
by  the  small,  malodorous  watering-place  lamp, 
leaving  her  Thomas  to  confront  the  anxious 
parents. 

To  them  Tommy  told  all  that  he  knew,  and 
wound  up  by  advising  them  to  go  to  bed,  saying 
that  everything  was  sure  to  be  right,  and  that 


BUTTONS.  197 

he  would  go  down  to  the  pier  and  wait  for  the 
truants.  He  confessed  to  himself  that  he  did 
not  see  what  good  this  would  do,  nor  why  it 
should  have  any  soothing  effect;  but  the  old 
people  appeared  to  be  easier,  and  that  was 
something. 

When  the  "  dinky"  hove  in  sight  the  next 
morning,  an  hour  after  sunrise,  Tommy,  with  a 
severe  face,  stood  at  the  head  of  the  steps. 

He  bowed  with  grave  courtesy  to  Miss  Mopus 
as  she  came  up  leaning  on  Shanks's  arm,  and 
seemed  half  annoyed  that  she  met  his  gaze  so 
frankly.  She  put  him  wonderfully  in  mind  of 
the  Daisy  as  she  had  appeared  upon  her  return 
to  the  ball-room  that  moonlit  eve  in  June  minus 
the  blue  button,  and  he  couldn't  understand  it 
at  all.  Shanks  was  very  damp  and  distrait,  and 
though  he  bore  himself  not  untenderly  towards 
his  companion,  there  was  nothing  in  his  appear 
ance  to  recall  the  night  when  he  had  lost  a 
button.  Tommy  was  not  sorry  to  see  his  friend 
thus,  but  he  did  not  like  to  find  him  quite  so 
haggard  and  constrained. 

"  Hang  it !"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  don't  like 
it!" 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  hotel,  Miss 
17* 


198  BUTTONS. 

Mopus  flew  to  her  mamma,  where,  if  you  please, 
we  will  leave  her  for  the  present. 

"Now!"  said  Tommy,  "come  to  my  room. 
I  want  to  talk  with  you.  Come !"  The  little 
man's  dignity  and  abruptness  would,  under 
other  circumstances,  have  brought  a  laugh  from 
Shanks,  but  he  felt  the  premonitory  chill  that 
heralds  coming  clouds,  and  meekly  followed 
Tommy  to  No.  44.  His  own  was  No.  45 ;  the 
two  communicated.  The  little  chap  offered  him 
a  wicker  flask,  saying,  "I  brought  that  from 
home."  And  while  Shanks  helped  himself, 
went  on, — 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  have  been  about  ?" 

"Do  I  know?  Of  course  I  know  that  I've 
got  that  girl  into  a  pretty  mess, — and  myself, 
too.  But,  Chick,  it  was  all  a  mistake " 

"Do  you  call  it  a  'mistake'  to  stay  out  all 
night  with " 

"  Stop !  not  another  word  until  you  have 
heard  me!"  And  then  he  rapidly  told  the 
story  of  the  night's  adventure. 

Before  he  had  finished,  Tommy's  left  arm  was 
about  his  shoulders  and  their  right  hands  were 
clasped. 

"But,"  said  Tommy,  "my  dear  fellow,  you 


BUTTONS.  199 

must  not  hope  that  this  will  go  down  with  the 
hollow  crowd.  If  you  hadn't  found  your  boat 
and  had  stayed  on  the  island  until  some  of  the 
natives  had  picked  you  up,  it  would  have  heen 
better, — romantic,  you  know,  and  all  that.  But, 
from  your  own  view  of  the  case,  I  ask  you  what 
sort  of  a  story  will  that  woman  from  the  Pacific 
slope,  Mrs.  Rummill,  and  her  shadow,  Miss 
Ekko,  create  out  of  such  materials?  What 
can  you  do?  Then  there's  poor  Miss  Mopus. 
Fight?  yes;  but  you  can't  call  out  the  world. 
And  as  for  the  fair  sex, — you  know  the  luck 
Don  Quixote  had  with  the  windmills." 

"Well,  then,  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"Blessed  if  I  know!  Yes:  take  off  those 
wet  things  and  go  to  bed.  I  will  be  on  the 
qui  vive  for  public  opinion,  and — there  goes  the 
gong:  I'm  off!" 

So  Shanks  turned  in,  and  Tommy  went  to 
breakfast. 

When  Tommy  returned  to  where  he  had  left 
Shanks,  one  end  of  the  matutinal  cigar  had 
gone  out,  while  that  which  he  held  between  his 
teeth  was  much  out  of  condition.  He  was  in 
such  a  rage.  He  slammed  the  door,  flung  his 
dumpy  carcass  into  a  chair,  kicked  the  table, 


200  BUTTONS. 

swore  a  little ;  and  this  awoke  Shanks,  lying  in 
the  next  room,  who  called  out, — 

"  That  you,  Chick  ?     What's  the  matter  ?" 

"  No  end  of  a  row.  I  shall  not  be  surprised 
if  you  have  a  visit  from  Papa  Mopus ;  so  you 
had  better  get  up  and " 

"What    the    devil You    don't    really 

mean " 

"Yes,  I  do.  That  poor  girl  came  down  to 
breakfast  with  mamma  just  as  if  everything 
was  all  right,  and " 

"Well,  isn't  it?" 

"  Wait  till  I  tell  you.  You  need  not  fly  out 
at  me." 

"  Pardon,  old  fellow.     Go  on." 

"  Granted.  Now  be  quiet.  As  I  was  saying, 
Miss  Mopus  came  down  fresh,  smiling,  and 

looking  as  happy  as  if I'm  afraid  you've 

made  a  mash  there,  Shanks." 

"  Stuff!" 

"  Well,  I  was  about  to  say  *  sour  mash,'  of 
course,  knowing  how  you  stand  in— in— another 
quarter;  but  every  confounded  woman  in  the 
place  turned  her  back  upon  her.  Cold  cut  and 
no  mistake.  And  then  they  began  to  talk  at 
her  in  that  nice  way  women  have.  Said  all 


BUTTONS.  201 

sorts  of  really  brutal  things  about  you  two  being 
out  all  night,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  She 
couldn't  help  hearing, — they  didn't  whisper, — 
and  after  sitting  a  few  moments  at  table,  look 
ing,  as  each  horrid  speech  fell  upon  her  ear,  as 
if  she  had  been  stabbed,  she  burst  into  tears  and 
rushed  out  of  the  room." 

"  Great  heaven !  what  have  I  done  ?"  from 
Shanks,  now  dressed  and  walking  up  and  down 
Tommy's  apartment. 

"You?  nothing!  Couldn't  be  helped,  of 

course.  And  yet "  A  mute  shrug  of  the 

shoulders  from  Tommy,  who  then  went  on :  "I 
couldn't  stand  this,  you  know,  and  broke  out  in 
a  way  that  forced  people  to  listen,  and  told  the 
whole  story." 

"  Thanks !  thanks !" 

"  Well,  the  men — there  were  not  many  about 
— seemed  to  see  how  it  was;  but  the  women 
— even  my  Ophe — Miss  Bang,  I  mean — were 
worse  than  before.  That  horrid  one — all  red 
satin  and  diamonds — sneered  out, <  Quite  the  Ro 
mance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man,'  and  Miss  Ekko, 
of  course,  came  in  with  '  Poor  Young  Man.' ' 

Shanks,  with  something  between  a  curse  and  a 
groan,  dropped  into  a  chair. 


202  BUTTONS. 

Tommy  continued :  "  Then  I  went  out.  I 
felt  that  if  I  didn't  go  away  I  might  say  some 
thing.  So  I  went  off  to  the  beach ;  but  whom 
should  I  run  across  there  but  that  fellow  Swag, 
— J.  B.  Swag  he  calls  himself.  He  was  dis 
posed  to  be  confidential,  but  I  promptly  inti 
mated  to  him  that  if  he  had  any  remarks  to 
make  it  would  give  me  pleasure  to  name  a 
friend,  who  would  make  the  usual  arrange 
ments.  I  don't  think  he  knew  quite  what  I 
meant ;  but,  if  he  had  been  a  Kentucky  gentle 
man  instead  of  a  J.  B.  Swag " 

A  knock  at  the  door,  which  being  opened 
disclosed  a  servant,  who  bore  the  card  of  Papa 
Mopus,  upon  which  was  a  penciled  request  for 
a  few  moments'  private  conversation  with  Lieu 
tenant  Sinclair. 

"Show  him  up,"  said  Tommy;  and  as  the 
door  closed,  "  Let  him  come  in  here,  old  chap. 
I'll  get  out  for  a  bit."  And,  taking  his  friend's 
hand,  he  added :  "  Keep  up  your  end  of  the  log ; 
it's  all  right,  you  know." 

"Never  fear,"  returned  Shanks;  "I'll  face 
the  music." 

The  twins  shook  hands.  Tommy  descended 
to  the  parlors,  and  soon  afterwards  did  penance 


BUTTONS.  203 

by  "  holding"  worsted  for  Miss  Bang,  who  was 
engaged  upon  a  thing  she  called  an  afghan. 
Some  called  it  Penelope's  web. 

The  interview  between  Mr.  Mopus  and 
Shanks  was  said  by  those  ladies  whose  rooms 
were  on  the  same  floor  to  have  been  "very 
quiet."  They  omitted  to  explain  how  they 
knew  this,  but  they  "knew"  such  a  lot  of 
things,  that  the  Mopus  family  found  it  con 
venient  and  merciful  for  themselves  to  leave  the 
Pool  that  same  day. 

The  beach  that  afternoon  was  the  scene  of 
another  interview,  one  which  afforded  entertain 
ment  and  occupation  for  many  eyes  and  tongues. 
The  twins  were  in  earnest  conversation,  fre 
quently  halting  as  if  to  emphasize  their  re 
marks,  and  it  was  observed  that  Shanks  ap 
peared  to  be  resolved  upon  something  which 
seemed  to  call  forth  much  energetic  remon 
strance  from  Tommy.  Miss  Bang,  who,  like 
the  rest,  could  not  hear  a  word,  was,  in  con 
sequence,  fairly  bubbling  with  that  kind  of 
wrath  which  seems  to  boil  best  'neath  vestal 
flame,  and  alluded  to  the  now  absent  Miss 
Mopus  as  a  "  creature." 

The  gong  sounded  as  the  pair  approached  the 


204  BUTTONS. 

house.  Shanks  went  to  his  room, — didn't  want 
any  tea;  but  Tommy,  whose  appetite  was  proof 
against  everything  but  repletion,  took  his 
charmer  in  to  table,  where  he  nearly  choked 
with  rage  and  cold  beef  while  the  red  satin 
female  from  the  Pacific  slope,  her  Miss  Ekko, 
and  his  Ophelia  made  mincemeat  of  the  de 
parted  Miss  Mopus. 

Next  morning  when  the  little  man  arose,  he 
found  upon  his  table  a  letter  from  Shanks,  con 
taining  another,  and  explaining  that  he  had 
gone, — didn't  care  to  say  good-by, — would  soon 

meet  him  at  Fort ,  their  station,  and  would 

he,  when  in  New  York,  deliver  the  inclosed  ? 

Poor  Tommy  burst  out  crying.  "  He's  done 
it,  then !  He  said  he  would.  Poor,  dear  boy ! 
What  an  ass !  Confound  those  women 1" 

IV. 

IT  was  September,  in  New  York.  The 
Van  Stumps  had  returned.  Mr.  Van  Stump 
was  in  stocks, — couldn't  stay  away  any  longer  ; 
his  rosy  spouse  declared  there  was  nothing  to 
eat  in  the  country, — she  was  nearly  starved; 
and  Daisy  was  eager  to  see  "  Eyes," — he  would 
be  in  the  city  in  September. 


BUTTONS.  205 

She  had  not  had  a  letter  for  a  week ;  but  he 
was  at  the  seaside, — yachting,  perhaps;  he 
would  come  himself,  soon.  Every  ring  at  the 
door-bell  made  her  heart  throb;  but  he  came 
not. 

One  morning  while  at  breakfast  she  saw  in 
the  Herald  something  that  nearly  stunned  her. 
She  looked  again,  doubting  the  evidence  of  her 
own  eyes,  to  see  announced  the  marriage  of 
Lieutenant  John  Sinclair,  U.  S.  Army,  to  Isa 
bella,  daughter  of  Mark  Mopus,  of .  She 

could  read  no  more,  but  sat  like  a  stone  for  a 
time,  then  rose  and  left  the  table,  taking  the 
newspaper  with  her  to  her  own  room.  There, 
she  locked  the  door,  and  tried  to  think.  It  was 
all  over,  then.  Her  dream  had  vanished;  she 

had  thought  herself   so   happy,   and   now 

But,  stay, — it  might  not  be  her  John  Sinclair 
after  all :  it  might  be  a  trick, — a  hoax.  She  had 
heard  such  things  talked  about.  But  then  came 
the  doubt,  why  had  he  not  written?  "Why 
this  ?  Why  that  ?  It  seemed  to  her  that  until 
she  knew  that  he  had  been  false  she  must  have 
faith  in  him. 

A  ring  at  the  door-bell ! 

It  caused  her  heart  to  throb,  but  it  was  not 
18 


206  BUTTONS. 

the  eager,  expectant  leap  of  yesterday.    It  was 
that  of  dread. 

A  knock  on  her  door.     A  card : 

"  Lieutenant  Thomas  Dobbs, 
U.S.A." 

It  was  not  "  Eyes ;"  but  it  was  his  dear  friend. 

She  might  learn  from  him.  Yes,  she  would 
see  him  at  once.  And  down  the  stairs,  with 
the  fatal  newspaper  in  her  hand,  she  slowly 
walked  to  meet  poor  little  Tommy,  who  would 
have  looked  only  less  like  a  wraith  than  herself 
if  he  could  have  looked  like  a  wraith  at  all. 

Without  waiting  to  offer  any  conventional 
remarks,  Tommy,  pointing  to  the  paper  she 
carried,  said, — 

"You  have  seen  it,  then?  This,  perhaps" 
(here  he  presented  the  letter  Shanks  had  con 
fided  to  him),  "will  tell  you  all.  I  can't." 
And  the  tears  stood  in  the  little  fellow's  round, 
honest  eyes  and  trembled  in  his  voice. 

She  took  it,  but  did  not  then  break  the  seal. 

"' This  will  tell  me  all.'  All?  What?  Nay, 
do  not  speak,  Mr.  Dobbs;  I  will  read  the 
letter." 

She  was  very  calm,  although  one  hand  played 


BUTTONS.  207 

in  a  fitful  way  with  a  bell-button  that  hung  from 
a  chatelaine  she  wore. 

"  Yes ;  read  it,  and  let  me  say— you  know— 
good-by.     I  couldn't  see  you  read  it"  (the  tears 
were   chasing  one   another   down   his   cheeks). 
"  And  so,  Miss— Miss— Daisy, — he  always  called 
you  that,— I'll  say— goo— good-by." 
They  shook  hands  and  parted. 
Tommy  went  to  his  hotel,  rushed  to  his  room, 
and  passed  the  day  in  a  most  miserable  state, 
forgetting  all  about  dinner  and  Miss  Bang,— the 
last-named  charmer  having  returned  to  town. 

She  went  to  her  room.  There  she  broke  the 
seal  and  read  "  Eyes's"  truthful  account  of  what 
had  occurred  at  the  Pool.  His  letter  concluded 
with  this : 

"  And  now,  my  heart's  own  darling, — let  me 
call  you  so  for  the  last  time, — I  shall  never  call 
any  one  else  so  dearly, — you  know  what  I  must 
do.  Such  terrible  things  have  been  said— you, 
dear,  sweet,  pure  heart,  can  never  guess  what — 
about  this  poor  girl,  that  I,  knowing  myself  to 
be  their  cause,  feel  that  there  is  but  one  thing 
left  for  me  to  do.  God  forgive  me  if  it  be 
wrong.  But  I  feel  that  it  will  be  only  right.  I 
shall  keep  the  blue  button,  dear,  unless  you 


208  BUTTONS. 

send  mine  back  to  me.  We  shall  meet  again 
some  day,  but  not  here.  God  bless  you,  and 
farewell !" 

Later,  those  who  sought  her  found  her  lying 
in  a  faint  upon  the  floor. 

****** 

Among  those  who  rode  into  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  which,  one  bright  morning 
in  June,  lay  crouching  in  swart,  abhorrent  form, 
was  no  better  soldier  than  Lieutenant  John  Sin 
clair,  of  the  — th  Cavalry,  who,  daring  the  short 
halt  which  preceded  the  subsequent  attack, 
crossed  over  to  where  little  Tommy  Dobbs,  on  a 
large  and  sedate  horse,  sat  wondering  what  they 
were  going  to  do  next. 

"  Chick,  old  fellow,"  said  Shanks,  in  his 
gentle  way, — gentler  now  than  of  yore, — 
"  Chick,  good-by !"  And  he  held  out  his  hand, 
which  Tommy  squeezed. 

"Eh?  Oh,  of  course.  Good-by,  Shanks. 
"What's  up  now?" 

"  Simply,  Tommy,  that  I  don't  think  I  shall 
get  out  of  this  affair.  There's  going  to  be  hot 
work." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  old  fellow !  You  mustn't 
talk  about  not  pulling  through.  It  won't  be 


BUTTONS.  209 

much  of  a  row.  These  things  never  are,  you 
know.  Blaze  away  all  day;  great  waste  of 
ammunition ;  Indians  suddenly  disappear ;  long 
accounts  from  '  Our  Special  Correspondent;' 
everybody's  trousers  worn  out,  and  nobody 
hurt.  That's  the  style." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  this  will  be  different,  and 
I  want  you  to  take  charge  of  this  and  return  it 

to You  know,  Chick."     And  he  made  as 

if  he  would  take   something  from  within   the 

O 

breast  of  the  blue  hunting-shirt  he  had  on 
beneath  his  blouse.  But  at  this  moment  the 
word  was  passed  to  mount,  and  Tommy,  who 
was  a  little  way  off  from  his  troop,  dug  spurs 
into  his  staid  beast  and  cantered  away,  calling 
out, — 

"  Can't  stop  now,  Shanks.  It's  all  right. 
See  you  to-night.  Dine  with  us, — antelope  and 
slapjacks !" 

And  when  the  smoke  had  cleared  away, 
among  the  mutilated,  despoiled,  and  slain  were 
said  to  be  Shanks  Sinclair  and  Chiquito  Dobbs, 
but  their  corpses  could  not  be  recognized. 

And  when  Rain-in-the-Face  rode  insolently 

into  the  agency  at ,  on  the  Upper  Missouri, 

the  wind  that  stirred  the  lappels  of  the  cavalry 
o  18* 


210  BUTTONS. 

officer's  blouse  he  wore  (bloody,  torn,  and 
stained)  exposed  upon  his  tawny  breast  a  blue 
satin  button. 

Above  a  little  iron  cot  within  a  cloistered 
room  hangs  a  wreath  of  faded  immortelles, 
within  which  in  withered  violets  are  the  letters 
"  J.  S.,"  and  from  the  wreath  depends  one  silver 
button. 


THE  END. 


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By  Florence  Belknap  Gilmour, 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH   OF 

LEON  DE  TINSEAU. 
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In  Quest  of  the  Ideal. 

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A  Forgotten  Debt. 


"  The  story  reads  as  if  it  were  a  true  life  tale,  told  simply  and  with  none  of 
the  unpleasant  element  found  repulsive  to  American  taste  in  many  of  the  latest 
French  novels.  It  is  healthful  and  hearty,  and  well  suited  for  summer's  day  peru 
sal  by  old  or  young." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  A  very  interesting  novel  which  tells  of  life  in  the  French  provinces  and  me 
tropolis,  and  also  in  an  American  frontier  military  post,  and  depicts  the  local 
atmosphere  of  all  three— a  difficult  feat,  which  shows  the  versatility  and  analytical 
and  descriptive  powers  of  the  author.  The  plot  is  interesting,  and  holds  the  atten 
tion  of  the  reader  from  beginning  to  end." — Detroit  Tribune. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


WILSON  BARRETT'S  GREAT  NOVEL 


The  Sign  of  the  Cross 

WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY  B.  WEST  CLINEDINST 


I2mo.    Cloth,  extra,  $i.$o. 


"  You  seem  to  me  to  have  rendered  a  great  service  to  the  best  and  holiest  of  all 
causes,— The  Cause  of  Faith."— RT.  HON.  W.  E.  GLADSTONE. 

"  Mr.  Barrett  has  succeeded  admirably  in  placing  a  strong  and  intense  story 
before  the  reading  public." — Cincinnati  Commercial  Tribune. 

"  Mr.  Barrett  has  treated  his  subject  with  reverence  and  dignity.  The  brutal, 
licentious  Nero  and  his  ribald  drunken  satellites  make  an  admirable  foil  to  the 
spiritual  Mercia  and  the  other  followers  of  Christ ;  and  throughout  the  book  the 
nobility,  the  simple  faith,  and  the  steadfastness  of  these  last  are  dominating  notes. 
No  more  impressive  lesson  of  the  power  of  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  has  been 
given  in  fiction  than  the  conversion  of  Marcus,  Nero's  Prefect,  through  the  example 
and  fearlessness  of  the  girl  Mercia." — Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin. 

*' '  The  Sign  of  the  Cross'  is  an  historical  story  of  the  first  Christian  century 
which  in  a  forcible  way  portrays  the  conflict  between  the  religion  of  the  Caesars  and 
that  of  Christ.  It  is  crowded  with  picturesque  personages,  some  of  them  historical, 
and  it  is  provided  with  moving  scenes  and  dramatic  situations.  The  triumph  of  the 
Cross  is  set  forth  in  a  manner  to  make  vivid  the  odds  it  overcame  and  the  force  of 
its  influence.  Mr.  Barrett,  in  making  fiction  out  of  drama,  shows  himself  to  possess 
a  decided  literary  ability  (not  necessarily  to  be  found  in  the  writer  of  a  good  acting 
play),  and  he  tells  the  story  with  keen  instinct  for  its  dramatic  value.  The  result  is 
a  readable  and  impressive  novel  whose  action  is  swift  and  whose  interest  is  sustained 
throughout.  The  book  is  a  justification  of  the  experiment  of  turning  stage  litera 
ture  Into  closet  reading." — Hartford  Courant. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  GEORGE  MORGAN. 

John  Littlejohn,  of  J. 

BEING  IN  PARTICULAR  AN 

ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  REMARKABLE   ENTANGLEMENT  WITH  THE  KING'S 
INTRIGUES   AGAINST   GENERAL  WASHINGTON. 

Cloth  extra,  deckle  edges,  $1.25. 


"  George  Morgan's  style  is  strong  and  free,  intensely 
literal  and  vividly  poetic  by  turns,  and  he  has  prepared 
himself  thoroughly  by  knowing  the  scenes  and  studying 
the  historic  incidents  with  the  pains  necessary  for  a  good 
historic  novel.  « John  Littlejohn,  of  J.,'  is  a  tale  of  Rev 
olutionary  times.  It  opens  at  Valley  Forge,  introducing 
amid  lesser-known  officers,  Americans  and  their  French 
and  German  allies,  Washington,  of  course,  and  Hamil 
ton  and  Conway,  the  cabalist,  the  noble  young  Lafayette, 
Baron  Steuben,  and  others  of  distinction.  Out-and-out 
adventure,  intrigues,  with  their  plot  and  counterplot,  the 
romance  of  maiden's  love,  smoothing  the  horrors  and 
compensating  for  the  dangers  and  discomforts  of  grim 
war,  are  here  well  mingled.  The  story  ends  at  the  battle 
of  Monmouth,  in  which  the  treachery  of  Lee,  and  Wash 
ington's  one  recorded  oath  when  he  denounced  and 
insulted  Lee  by  the  word  and  sign  '  Poltroon,'  as  under 
stood  between  soldier  and  soldier,  and  by  his  superb 
presence  turned  defeat  into  victory,  are  told  with  spirit." 
— Boston  Evening  Transcript. 


"  '  John  Littlejohn,  of  J.,'  is  a  story  full  of  originality,  of  vitality,  action,  and 
charming  bits  of  descriptive  writing ;  an  earnest,  able,  and  highly  interesting  picture 
of  the  American  Revolution ;  a  romance  which  must  always  find  an  honored  place 
among  the  comparatively  few  novels  having  a  background  of  American  history. 
.  .  .  The  style  is  a  wonder  of  crispness  and  of  a  kind  of  Shakespearian  happiness. 
The  spirit  is  remarkable,  as  is  also  the  fidelity  to  the  times,  to  place,  and  to  char 
acter."—  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Marie  Corelli. 


Barabbas : 

A  DREAM  OF  THE  WORLD'S  TRAGEDY. 
I2mo.     Red  buckram,  j$i.oo. 

During  its  comparatively  brief  existence  this  remarkable  book  has  been  trant- 
lated  into  French,  German,  Swedish,  Hindoostani,  and  Gujerati.  In 
England  and  America,  the  phenomenal  demand  for  the  -work  still  exhausts 
edition  after  edition  in  rapid  succession. 

"  Tragic  intensity  and  imaginative  vigor  are  the  features  of  this  powerful  tale." 
^Philadelphia  Ledger. 

"  A  book  which  aroused  in  some  quarters  more  violent  hostility  than  any  book 
of  recent  years.  By  most  secular  critics  the  authoress  was  accused  of  bad  taste, 
bad  art,  and  gross  blasphemy  ;  but,  in  curious  contrast,  most  of  the  religious  papers 
acknowledged  the  reverence  of  treatment  and  the  dignity  of  conception  which 
characterized  the  work." — London  Athenceum. 


The  Sorrows  of  Satan ; 

OR,  THE  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE  OF  ONE  GEOFFREY 
TEMPEST,  MILLIONAIRE. 

WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY  VAN  SCHAICK. 
I2mo.     Red  buckram,  $1.50. 

"  A  very  powerful  piece  of  work.  A  literary  phenomenon,  novel,  and  even 
sublime." — Review  of  Reviews. 

"  She  is  full  of  her  purpose.  Dear  me,  how  she  scathes  English  society !  She 
exposes  the  low  life  of  high  life  with  a  ruthless  pen.  The  sins  of  the  fashionable 
world  made  even  Satan  sad  ;  they  were  more  than  he  could  bear,  poor  man !  The 
book  is  lively  reading." — Chicago  Tribune. 


Cameos. 

I2mo.     Red  buckram,  $1.00. 

"Marie  Corelli  possesses  a  charm  as  a  writer  that  perhaps  has  never  been 
better  displayed  than  in  her  recent  work,  '  Cameos.'  " — Burlington  Hawk-Eye. 

"  As  long  as  Miss  Corelli  can  write  stories  like  these  she  will  not  lack  readers. 
In  this  volume  she  gives  new  and  convincing  proofs  of  versatility,  spirit,  tender 
ness,  and  power." — Chicago  Tribune. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Marie  Corelli. 


The  Murder  of  Delicia. 

I2mo.     Red  buckram,  $1.25. 

"  The  story  is  told  with  all  the  vigor  and  command  of  sarcasm  which  are  pecu 
liar  to  the  author.  It  is  a  most  interesting  story,  and  the  moral  of  it  is  a  wholesome 
one." — Buffalo  Courier. 

"  Her  style  is  so  clear-cut,  keen,  and  incisive,  so  trenchant  and  yet  so  delicate. 
so  easily  wielded — so  like  a  javelin,  in  short — that  one  cannot  but  be  fascinated 
throughout  the  book." — Philadelphia  Record. 

"  A  more  powerful  invective  against  the  reigning  and  popular  society  evils  has 
rarely  been  written,  with  so  fine  a  blending  of  the  elements  of  reproach  and  con 
demnation,  rage  and  pity,  sarcasm  and  pathos." — Boston  Courier. 


The  Mighty  Atom. 

I2mo.     Red  buckram,  $1.25. 


"  Such  a  book  as  '  The  Mighty  Atom'  can  scarcely  fail  in  accomplishing  a  vast 
amount  of  good.  It  should  be  on  the  shelves  of  every  public  library  in  England 
and  America.  Marie  Corelli  has  many  remarkable  qualities  as  a  writer  of  fiction. 
Her  style  is  singularly  clear  and  alert,  and  she  is  the  most  independent  of  thinkers 
and  authors  of  fiction  ;  but  her  principal  gift  is  an  imagination  which  rises  on  a  bold 
and  easy  wing  to  the  highest  heaven  of  invention." — Boston  Home  Journal. 


Vendetta  ;   or,  The  Story  of  One  Forgotten. 
I2mo.     Buckram,  $1.00. 

"  The  story  is  Italian,  the  time  1884,  and  the  precise  stage  of  the  acts,  Naples, 
during  the  last  visitation  of  the  cholera.  A  romance,  but  a  romance  of  reality. 
No  mind  of  man  can  imagine  incidents  so  wonderful,  so  amazing,  as  those  of  actual 
occurrence." — Washington  National  Republican. 


ISSUED  IN  THE  LOTOS  LIBRARY. 

Jane. 

i6mo.     Polished  buckram,  75  cents. 

"  It  is  a  sympathetic  tale,  full  of  admirable  contrast  between  the  old-fashiontd 
and  the  new." — Washington  Times. 


].  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


